


What a Heart is Worth

by SoupTimeHoney



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Drug Use, Dubious Morality, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Slow Burn, Yakuza
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:20:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25433776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoupTimeHoney/pseuds/SoupTimeHoney
Summary: Oikawa Tooru has lived life as a relatively good person: His life revolves around his job, his classes, taking care of his nephew, and watching after his sister, who always seems to find herself in some sort of trouble. But when they find themselves on the bad side of the yakuza, it falls on Tooru to take up their debt, paying it piece by piece to their boss, a course and intimidating man named Iwaizumi Hajime.Their relationship is tumultuous from the start, and Iwaizumi makes it clear he doesn’t care how he uses Tooru, but as they spend more time together, Tooru finds there’s more to the yakuza leader than his stony exterior. As Tooru dives more into the complex world of organized crime and he and Iwaizumi grow closer, however, their lives seem to only get more complicated, forcing them to confront the questions: what is the heart of another worth, and to what extent are they willing to go for it?Includes various appearances from members of Aoba Johsai, Fukorodani, Nekoma, Shiratorizawa, and Karasuno and some background pairings, though Iwazumi/Oikawa is the main focus.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 26
Kudos: 121





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhhhh! I’m so excited to finally start publishing this piece. Didn’t expect my first (published) fanfic to be an IwaOi fic, (especially since I just joined the fandom this year), but honestly this has been a joy to write so far! Hopefully you all will like it, too.
> 
> I plan to release about a chapter a week, though that could change depending on the chapter length and my own progress (i.e. how much time I spend attempting to perfect a chapter until I either decide it’s good or I drive myself crazy first). I plan on it being around 16 chapters, but I’ll most likely add on an epilogue as well if I think it deserves it (it will). First, though, a couple of notes and chapter guidances:
> 
> -I’m definitely not an expert on Japanese language, culture, or on the yakuza’s whole schtick, but I will try to keep it as accurate as the plot allows. I’m just using the knowledge/research I have on hand, but if you have any additional insights, please let me know!!
> 
> -Money is a big plot detail in this fic, so keep in mind that I’m using Japanese yen. ¥100 equals (very roughly) around $1 USD, so one million yen, for instance, would be around $10,000.
> 
> -Characters from Nekoma and Karasuno as well as Tooru will appear on the “normal” side of Tooru’s life (work, school, etc.). Iwaizumi’s yakuza clan will consist of characters from Seijoh and Fukorodani, mostly because I severely love Akaashi and wanted him to play a somewhat big role (also the idea of Akaashi as a right-hand man to the boss was just waaaay too appealing to pass up). There will also be an appearance or two by Ushijima and possibly a few other Shiratorizawa members as well, though I’m still deciding on who.
> 
> -I’ll probably note who will be appearing in each chapter since it’s set from Oikawa’s POV and he doesn’t know their names for the beginning chapters. But definitely let me know if you’d like to see guest appearances by anyone else! I can always find some space :)
> 
> -It should also be noted that, even though this is technically a “slow burn” fic, there will also be a loooooot of smut. It should get lighter/fluffier as it goes along, but the whole concept is “Tooru has to sleep with the yakuza boss to pay off his debt,” so the first couple chapters might be a little uncomfortable for some. Let me know in the comments if you have any major concerns.
> 
> Otherwise…...I hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> (Chapter 1 character appearances: Washio, Konoha, Onaga, Kyotani, Hanamaki, Iwaizumi, Matsuwaka, Akaashi)

**Chapter 1: The Negotiator**

Tooru huffs, annoyed, as he presses the buzzer for his sister’s apartment for the eighth time. He checks his phone again, but the last message she’d sent was to tell him Takeru was spending the night at a friend’s house, followed by Tooru’s own text saying he’d gotten out of lab late and then his increasingly worried/annoyed attempts to let her know he’d arrived. 

He tries to call again, hoping she might’ve just missed his other five calls. Nothing. He thinks about texting TJ, but he’s not in the mood for dealing with his sister’s boyfriend, who’s probably spending the night in some sketchy dive bar or passed out under one of his cars again, waiting until one of his coworkers comes to open the garage in the morning before stumbling his way back to the apartment.

He pushes the buzzer again, pressing down hard. Nothing.

He’s about to give up and go back to his own apartment when someone walks out, leaving the gate open for him to walk through.

He’s already drafted out a long list of complaints to her by the time he reaches her floor, but he freezes when he sees her door is slightly ajar. He glances around, looking for signs that she or TJ had just left or were coming back up. Nothing.

He sighs frustratedly. _One of these days, Kira_ , he thinks, _you’re going to get in trouble for being so careless._

He nudges the door open, making sure to shut and lock it properly behind him.

“Kira!” He calls. Nothing. _Huh_ , he thinks. _Maybe she’s still out._ He walks into the living room, cupping his hands over his mouth. “Kira!” His voice echoes through the kitchen, but he gets nothing else in response.

He shrugs, slipping his backpack off and tossing his phone on the coffee table, leaning over to pick up the remote. 

He’s just about to flop on the couch and watch trash TV until she gets back when he hears a muffled shout from the other side of the apartment. 

He springs up immediately, but he still barely has time before he hears another shout and a loud bang. He scrambles to her room, using his shoulder to shove open the door. 

Inside, he finds two men, one holding his sister’s arms behind her back. The one holding her in place, his hand struggling to cover her mouth, is at least Tooru’s size, and his partner is significantly bigger in both directions. The tall one turns to Tooru as if to grab him. 

Before he can react, another voice pipes up behind him. “Ain’t nothing here either, boss. Seems he bugged the fuck out before we got here.” 

The two men that have just emerged from Takeru’s room stop when they see Tooru, whose brain functions have all but grinded to a halt at the realization that he is very much not equipped to take on four muscle-y guys, especially when they all have guns strapped to their thighs.

Kira yells something muffled against the hand around her mouth--probably Tooru’s name--but he doesn’t have time to blink before arms are flying at him from several directions.

By the time he knows what’s happening again, he’s being pushed face-down into the carpet, two hands on his shoulders and two more on his ankles to hold him down. He can hear Kira’s muffled protests as he tries to stay calm.

“So,” says someone above him. He can see shiny black shoes as the speaker strolls in front of him. “You’re the one who likes cutting and pasting cars back together, huh? The boss has been dying to meet with you.”

“What?” Tooru says, the carpet muffling his voice. “I don’t...I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Something comes to press into his back--a foot. “Oh, really? Isn’t that convenient.” He holds his breath as a face cranes down into his vision: the tall guy from earlier. “Do I look like the kind of guy you can fool?”

Tooru’s stomach drops as his mind tries to catch up with what’s happening. Behind him, Kira’s muffled voice finally breaks clear.

“--not him!” She cries, panting hard. “That’s not TJ!”

The man glances at his partners before examining Tooru again. He straightens, though his foot stays on Tooru’s back. “Who the hell is he, then?”

Kira barely sounds like herself when she responds, her voice wobbly and verging on hysterical. “My brother--he’s my brother.” Tooru listens as the men seem to put the pieces together. “Please--he has nothing to do with this.”

There’s a heavy silence before the tall guy speaks again, his voice quieter but not kinder. “Goddammit,” he mutters. “You know where your boyfriend actually is?” Tooru doesn’t have to see his sister to know she’s shaking her head; TJ was like an alley cat--sometimes here, sometimes not, but never letting you now where he went when he did go. 

The tall guy grunts. “Great. Well,” he says, seeming to consider his options, “it doesn’t matter. We’ll bring you two to the boss. Maybe your boyfriend will show up after a little motivation.” 

Tooru’s stomach sinks. He and TJ barely tolerated each other at the best of times; he highly doubted he’d come out of hiding even if Tooru and Kira’s lives were on the line.

“If he doesn’t,” Tall Guy continues, “then you two can work out a deal with the boss himself. Otherwise you might be seeing me sooner than later.” 

Tooru hardly has time to respond before he’s lifted to his feet, each of his arms held tightly in the grip of the two guys who’d come from Takeru’s room.

The men practically drag them outside, shoving them in the backseat of a huge black SUV, two of the men getting into an identical one next to it. Tooru and Kira are each shoved against a window, with a man with hideous yellow-and-black-striped hair sat between them. The driver, who’d been sitting in the car when they’d gotten in, turns on the engine as Tall Guy gets in the passenger seat.

“I gotta call the boss,” Tall Guy grumbles, pulling out a black burner phone. “Seems our guy is taking a little vacation at the moment.”

“Hm,” says the driver. He glances at Tooru and Kira in the mirror. Tooru notes his pink-brown hair is trimmed short in a nearly straight line across his forehead. “So you’re giving him these guys instead?”

Tall Guy grunts, as if to say “ **_You_ ** _try doing better,”_ while the driver pulls them out into the road.

“Kyotani,” Tall Guy says as they start driving. “Blind them.”

Tooru barely has a moment to panic before Kyotani pulls out two black strips of cloth from his pockets and holds them out to Tooru and Kira. Tooru hesitates a second, only taking it after he glances at Kyotani’s terrifying glare. He ties his blindfold a little loosely, but it’s quickly yanked tighter by Kyontani, leaving him completely blind as they’re driven to what he hopes won’t just be a one-way trip.

Tooru tries to keep track of how many turns they take, but his head is spinning in so many directions, it’s hard to keep focus. He vaguely registers the Tall Guy’s conversation as they drive.

“It’s Washio,” he says, not sounding too happy about it. “No, he wasn’t there. Girlfriend doesn’t know where he is either.” He pauses for a second, as if listening. “Yeah, I know. I sent Konoha and Onaga to go check out a couple other places, but I don’t know, boss. The guy’s slippery.” He pauses for another second. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I’ve got his girl and her brother. We’re bringing ‘em back to base.” 

Tooru can almost hear the yelled response through the phone, but it’s too muffled to make out the words. “Yeah, ye--I know, okay! He walked in while we were asking her questions. I figured they could be useful somehow, even if her boyfriend doesn’t show.” The response is more muffled this time, though Tooru doubts it's a happy one. “All right, boss, yeah. See you soon.” He hangs up, sighing frustratedly.

“Bad mood?” The driver asks. Tall Guy sighs again.

“Hard to tell. I think he just likes yelling at me sometimes.” The driver snorts but doesn’t respond, as if the explosive temper of their boss is just a minor inside joke. 

_Hopefully we won’t have to meet him_ , Tooru prays, though he has a feeling it’s in vain.

He loses track of their route after thirty or so turns. They must be driving them around the long way so they get confused because there’s no way they’d still be in the city this long. They finally stop, and he hears the driver put them in park just before his door is opened and he’s yanked out, still blindfolded.

“Take them to the lower meeting room,” Tooru hears Tall Guy say. “Boss said to have ‘em wait in 34B until he’s ready to bring them in.” 

Tooru is half-pushed, half-dragged by two hands on his arms, who don’t apparently realize he’s still blindfolded as they lead him forward at a break-neck pace. He tries to keep track of the turns here as well--just in case they get the opportunity to run--but he’s thwarted again when they’re pushed into an elevator. As soon as the doors open, he’s being pushed forward again, bodily dragged for another minute before they come to an abrupt stop.

They unblindfold them, revealing a dimly-lit hall and an unmarked door. Kyotani and another guard still have a grip on him, and the one guard holding Kira keeps a hand on her shoulder as he unlocks the door. Tooru barely has a chance to see it’s pitch black inside before he’s shoved forward unceremoniously.

“Wait here,” Kira’s guard says before herding them into a dark room. The lights flicker on as the door closes behind them, locking with a sickening _click_. 

There’s not really anything here--just a couple of chairs and two doors. Tooru tries the door on his right, but it’s locked shut. The door on the far side does open, but when Kira flicks on the lights, it looks to be only another even smaller room.

Tooru and Kira look at each other, neither of them having to say their thoughts aloud. Kira grips her phone tightly in her hand.

“I’ll try TJ again,” she says quietly, stepping into the little side room and shutting the door. Tooru doesn’t understand why she’s trying; this wasn’t the first time her boyfriend had left her out to dry. The only difference was it usually didn’t include Tooru as well, nor getting on the bad side of the yakuza. 

Tooru takes a seat just outside the door, wishing he’d brought his phone as well, even if just to have something to fiddle with while they waited.

He didn’t like the sound of this boss character. Well, he actually didn’t like the sound of any of it, but meeting with the leader of these guys seemed especially foolhardy. He’d heard rumors about what the yakuza did to people who crossed them: chopping off fingers, burning their houses, even leaving them in shallow graves in the countryside. He didn’t know how much wrath a couple of botched car parts was awarded. He just hopes it isn’t more than they can afford.

He knows Kira isn’t having any luck reaching TJ after she doesn’t emerge for several minutes, but he doesn’t disturb her. He needed a moment to collect himself as well. He would prefer not to end this meeting with him begging on his knees with tears in his eyes, and he doesn’t think Kira would love it if he sold out TJ (not that he actually knew where he was, but Tooru would be happy enough to help them find him). So he uses the time to gather himself, closing his eyes and focusing on his breathing only.

He’s almost immediately interrupted when the locked door from earlier opens. Tooru stands quickly as a man enters.

He’s handsome, Tooru notes immediately, with short hair and dark eyes, even though his face is pinched in a serious expression. He’s young, nearly the same age as Tooru, and a little bit shorter than him, but with the bulkiness of his arms under his button-down shirt and his dark, furrowed brows, he could certainly pass for older. He looks over Tooru briefly, his frown deepening.

“Where’s the girl?”

Tooru blinks. It’d been a long time since Kira had been described as “girl”, especially by someone so obviously just as young.

“I--She had to make a phone call,” Tooru stammers, his voice coming out much higher than he means it to. The man glances towards the side room where Kira is, moving towards it without further preamble. Tooru stands quickly to block his path.

“Woah, _woah_ , uh--” he says, pasting on his most winning smile as he raises his hands. “What do you want from her?”

The man narrows his eyes, apparently not used to being intercepted. “I need to speak with her.” 

Tooru gulps. That’s what he was afraid of. “Well, if you wait just a minute, she can come out and join us--”

“Alone,” he says shortly. Tooru’s smile drops.

“Ah, well.” _Shit_ . No, no, _no_ \--there is no way he’s letting his sister be alone with any of these men, especially behind a closed door. He hesitates, looking for a way to stall. “Whatever you can say to her, you can say to me,” he says in a way he hopes sounds authoritative.

The man’s frown deepens, obviously annoyed. “I’m not here for you.” Tooru thinks quickly, looking for a way to redirect. It only takes him a second to find one.

“Why?” He says, this time forming the question to sound more coy. “Is there something wrong with me? I feel like I’m worth a guard checking in on me, too.”

The man blinks in surprise, probably taken aback by the one-eighty Tooru has spun on their conversation. “I’m not here to guard either of you.”

“No,” Tooru murmurs. “I figure the yakuza only look after their own.” He steps a little closer, allowing his voice to take on a breathier quality as he looks at the man through his eyelashes. “Or anyone who can...offer them something.”

The man’s brows lift in surprise. “You’re flirting.”

Tooru shrugs leisurely, deciding if he’s going to take the risk, he might as well be upfront about it. “I mean, figured it couldn’t hurt. I’m probably fucked here anyways.” The man regards Tooru curiously.

“Yes,” he responds finally. “That’s certainly…one way to put it.”

“So…” Tooru starts, looking over the man again. “Not security, then?”

He lifts a brow, still serious. “No. Any other guesses?”

Tooru gulps, though he tries not to make it seem obvious. “You’re…one of them. Business side of things.”

The man smirks. “Closer.”

“Hmm,” Tooru says, pulling himself even closer as he dares to trail a finger down the man’s chest. “Well, I’m sure you’re probably a big deal around here then, Mr…”

“Iwaizumi.”

“ _Iwaizumi_ ,” Tooru repeats, letting the name melt off his tongue. His finger follows down the neat line of buttons on Iwaizumi’s shirt, lingering near his navel. “Hm, yes--you seem like a guy with a lot of pull around this place.”

He feels Iwaizumi’s stomach flex beneath his finger. “When I want to,” Iwaizumi says, his voice lower, soft and gravelly. “When I want something enough.”

“Oh?” Tooru asks, lifting a delicate brow. He drops his voice to a whisper. “And what is it you want, Mr. Iwaizumi?”

Iwaizumi’s hands finally reach up to grab Tooru’s hips, his grip strong and solid. Tooru smirks, dropping his eyes to a button in Iwaizumi’s shirt as he murmurs. “I see. I guess I’m worth your attention after all.”

Iwaizumi blinks as if suddenly remembering something. “Yes…” he mumbles, shaking his head before pulling back from Tooru. He looks towards the side room, then back at Tooru. Tooru’s stomach drops and swirls as he prepares to bodily block Iwaizumi from going after his sister again.

Instead of moving forward, however, Iwaizumi leans back towards where he’d entered, looking at Tooru with a strange, calculating expression.

“You should get you sister,” he says, his voice returning to the stern gruffness from before, even though he still looks a little dazed. “They’ll be expecting you in the meeting room soon. You can wait in there.”

Tooru blinks at him, his body untensing. “Oh,” he says. “Right.” 

He feels Iwaizumi still watching him as he knocks on the side room’s door, waiting a brief moment before it cracks open and Kira’s head peeks out.

“Yes?” Her voice is small.

“We have to go,” Tooru tells her, flipping on his “confident brother” persona easily. “They said we can wait in the meeting room.”

Kira nods, opening the door hesitantly. She glances at Tooru when she spots Iwaizumi, who has fully restored his serious expression from earlier. He moves aside to open the door for them. Tooru gestures for Kira to go ahead of him, giving her a reassuring smile when she looks at him nervously. 

He watches while she walks into the next room, pausing by the door to murmur, “I guess we’ll have to finish our little conversation later, hm?”

He doesn’t wait for Iwaizumi’s answer, thinking it too much to expect an actual response, but as he follows his sister into the room, he hears Iwaizumi’s quiet voice: “I look forward to it.” 

The door closes before Tooru has a chance to look back at him, leaving him wondering not for the first time whether his gamble might save his ass or come back to bite it.

Kira is staring back at him when he turns to the room again, looking more than a little small. She tended to shrink when she was nervous, and in this room, she looks especially tiny. 

It’s not necessarily a huge room, per se, but the lack of furniture and people make it seem like it stretches off far in each direction. The only thing in it is a long, grey table, as if this is the world’s most intimidating conference room, at which the only other two people in the room sit, both facing Kira and Tooru. Between them lies a single empty chair. 

That must be where the boss sits, Tooru guesses, though he notes the distinct lack of yakuza kings sitting in it. 

Across from the table sit two other chairs, obviously meant for their two “guests”. Tooru decides to take the one on the left, brushing his shoulder with Kira’s as he passes so that she unfreezes and sits in the other. The men across from them barely acknowledge them as they sit, the one on the right watching them silently while the other stays glued to his work.

The man on the left is plain-looking, with dark, curly hair and thick eyebrows. He has a large stack of papers that he shuffles through, hardly glancing at Tooru and Kira. The man on the right is pretty in an unfair way--maybe prettier than _Tooru_ , even--with slim dark eyes and short curly hair. He’s intimidating not just from his blaring prettiness but the unreadable stare he gives as he looks between them, saying nothing.

“So,” Tooru says, mostly because he’s never been good with long silences, “I’m guessing we don’t get any complimentary mints or anything while we’re waiting? This place seems like it’d have those lying around.” He can see Kira cringe out of the corner of his eye, but he can’t help it: He’s always been a nervous babbler.

The man on the left barely glances up from his papers, his face bored. “You do realize where you are, don’t you?”

Tooru doesn’t point out the fact that _no, they had blindfolded them for a reason, hadn’t they?_ “Yes, and as nice as it’s been--I just don’t understand _why_ we’re here. Neither of us had anything to do with that car.”

Lefty raises a single brow, not looking up at him. “The boss will make the decision on that.” 

“But we came without resisting,” Tooru insists, looking between the two men. “Shouldn’t he at least hear us out?”

“This meeting is a formality,” Lefty says, sounding bored. “Though you can try to appeal to the boss’s better side. Sometimes he feels generous.”

Tooru frowns, his insides dropping uncomfortably. “And if he doesn’t?”

Lefty pauses, looking up from his stack. He and Pretty Boy glance at each other. 

“We’ll leave that up to him,” Lefty responds before turning back to his papers. “He should be here in just a moment.” 

Tooru gulps nervously before giving Pretty Boy a polite smile, which he doesn’t return. Beside him, Kira’s hands have started fidgeting nervously in her lap.

It feels like hours, but it's probably only a few minutes until the door behind the men finally opens. Instead of the rugged, unpleasant face of a yakuza boss (an image which may or may not have been formed solely by Tooru’s memory of American mafia movies), the person that enters is young, handsome, and familiar. 

Iwaizumi walks into the room without looking at Tooru, and though he’s probably there to accompany the boss, Tooru can’t help but be glad for the surprise. His chest warms slightly with relief as Iwaizumi strolls towards them, looking like a tall buoy while Tooru is drowning. 

That warmth quickly turns to ice when Iwaizumi doesn’t stop at the door or behind the table but steps directly to the center chair, pulling it back and taking a seat, his eyes finally meeting Tooru’s as he settles in across from him.

There’s not a single drop of saliva left in Tooru’s mouth as he stares at Iwaizumi, who looks back at him with the same stony expression from before.

“So,” he starts, ignoring Tooru’s obvious surprise, “I hear you want to make a deal with me.”

Tooru knows thousands of words, but he can’t seem to find even one to stuff into his mouth as Iwaizumi waits for his response. Beside him, Kira is just as silent.

Iwaizumi lifts a brow. “You’re not making a very compelling offer.”

“S-Sorry,” Tooru finally manages. “I was…I didn’t…You…” He swallows heavily. “Sorry, yes. I want to make an—an offer.”

Despite his spattering of words, Iwaizumi seems to understand him. “Your sister’s the one who stole from me, yes?” He asks, looking at Kira.

“Yes, well—no,” Tooru stammers. “It was actually her boyfriend—”

“I don’t care who it was,” Iwaizumi interrupts, still not looking at him. “Only that someone pays for it.”

Beside him, he can feel Kira tense, shrinking even more into her seat. “We don’t have money,” she says, her voice a mouse of a whisper.

“So you stole mine,” Iwaizumi says, though it’s neither angry nor understanding.

“We don’t have money right _now_ ,” Tooru interjects, desperately trying to pull Iwaizumi’s attention away from Kira, “but—but if you give us some time, we could—”

“How much time?” Iwaizumi asks, putting Tooru back under his paralyzing gaze. Tooru swallows, his mouth drying again as Iwaizumi waits for an answer. “You already said you don’t have money, and I doubt anyone would help out thieves. So how much time?”

Tooru glares at him but doesn’t defend himself against the accusation, as unfair as it is. “I don’t know,” he admits quietly. “But I could pick up more shifts at work, do extra jobs, maybe—”

“That won’t work,” Iwaizumi says firmly, cutting him off. “We are yakuza—not a loans office. Not a charity.” He turns back to Kira, and Tooru can practically see when she holds her breath, especially since he holds his as well.

“Something gets taken from us, it gets paid for,” Iwaizumi says. “Money or no money.” If looks could freeze people, Iwaizumi’s glare would have turned them both to ice. “You and your boyfriend—since I _know_ this was not a one-man job—will pay for my car.”

Tooru watches her swallow, her eyes comically wide. “But—But I—” she stutters. “But TJ—”

“Isn’t here right now.” Iwaizumi’s stare does not waver from her, his face not twitching a single muscle. “And you are. So as far as I’m concerned, you are the sole bearer of this debt. And you will be paying for it until he comes back—until I say you’re done.”

Kira’s lip quivers. “We have a son—”

“Who you obviously forgot to consider when you chose to cross my organization.” His voice is calm and nonjudgmental, yet Tooru can’t help but tense at the accusation. He knows Kira does too from her silence.

Iwaizumi sighs. “Look, I hate to do this, especially to a young mom—but we have strict rules. I can’t just let someone walk away debt-free because I feel bad for them.” Tooru hears his sister sniff, but she says nothing. “You and your boyfriend owe a debt to me, and since he isn’t here to pay it, I have to put it on yo—”

“What if someone else took it?” The room is silent as all four of them slowly turn to look at Tooru, who barely registers that the question came from him. “What if…” He continues, only looking at Iwaizumi as the words pour out of his mouth. “What if someone else offered to pay their debt for them?”

Iwaizumi evaluates Tooru with a long stare. “You want to take on their debt?”

He can feel Kira’s eyes boring into him. “Tooru, no—”

“I do,” he says, steadfastly ignoring Kira’s gaze to stare down Iwaizumi, who’s still regarding him with those dark, dangerous eyes.

“Hm,” Iwaizumi says after a moment, his stony face cracking for just a second, too quick for Tooru to read. “Okay.” He turns to the man on the right. “Escort her out.”

“No,” Kira says as Pretty Boy raises from his seat to reach for her. “No, no—Tooru!” Her voice cracks with something—Pain? Desperation?—as he lifts her from her seat. “Let _go_ of me—Tooru, please! _Don’t--_ ” Tooru stares at the table as the man drags her out of the room, her pleas silenced behind the door.

He can feel Iwaizumi’s eyes on him before he speaks. “She’s got some fire,” he says, half-appreciative. “And maybe so do you.”

Tooru looks at him questioningly, but Iwaizumi’s face has already turned back into unreadable stone—his negotiation face.

“What is it you want?” Tooru says quietly, dropping a little of the tough facade he put on for his sister.

“For payment?” Iwaizumi asks. Tooru nods, though a thrill of fear runs through him at the shift in Iwaizumi’s eyes: it’s hungrier, more dangerous. The look of a predator.

“You’re taking your sister’s place, right?” His voice is low. “Neither of you are trained to handle regular business functions—not that I’d trust you, anyways.” Despite the insult, he gives Tooru an appreciative stare. “But I’m sure you’ve got…other talents that are waiting to be used.”

Tooru clenches his jaw to hide the flood of nervousness that rises in him. He couldn’t…He couldn’t mean what Tooru thought he did, could he? But Tooru wasn’t stupid: he’d seen that look before on the faces of the people in the bars, people he took home, people tried to take him to theirs…

He swallows, mouth dry. “And to think,” he says, forcing his voice into something playful, “I had tried to give you that for free.”

Iwaizumi’s stony expression cracks as he smirks, full and amused, before he schools it away again. “Yes,” he murmurs, “That would have been a waste.”

They stare down at each other until something in Tooru falters. “So…” he starts hesitantly, desperately trying to remember how to negotiate. “How will this work? How will I know I’m…getting paid sufficiently?”

Iwaizumi doesn’t smirk, but he still looks smug as he stands. “Matsukawa,” he says to the other man beside him, who blinks up at him boredly. “Take care of the paperwork. Make sure we put down Mr…”

“Oikawa,” Tooru fills.

“-- _Oikawa_ into the records.” The name seems to melt off Iwaizumi’s tongue. “Make sure to tell Akaashi as well.”

Matsukawa gives a lazy nod as he gathers his papers. “Sure thing, boss.”

Tooru has barely processed the exchange before Iwaizumi is moving towards the door, Matsukawa following behind him.

“Wait!” Tooru stammers, only half-rising from his seat. Iwaizumi pauses as Matsukawa slips past him to leave. “What about my sister?”

Iwaizumi considers him coolly for a moment. “Akaashi is driving her home. I’ve got a security detail on her, just in case anything happens.”

 _Or in case TJ decides to show up_ , Tooru thinks bitterly, half-hoping his sister’s boyfriend has the sense not to and half-hoping he’ll do it anyways.

Outwardly, Tooru nods, standing to follow Iwaizumi as he leads them out the door.

Though the outside looked lackluster, the inside of the compound is practically labyrinthian, complete with dark, winding stairwells and halls that spiral off into unknown directions at every turn Iwaizumi leads them down. Tooru hangs close to him, taking care not to trip and stumble in the dimly-lit halls.

After several minutes and too many turns for Tooru to keep track of, Iwaizumi stops them at a plain-looking door at the end of a long hallway. He unlocks it and gestures Tooru inside, who walks in hesitantly with Iwaizumi at his back.

The lights flick on as the door shuts behind them. Tooru can feel Iwaizumi watching him as he surveys the room.

It’s wide and open, nearly twice the size of his tiny apartment, but there’s only a few pieces of furniture scattered about: a small table and chairs; a long desk on the far side of the room, covered in papers; a sleek-looking dresser with a TV hovering over; and a gigantic, absolutely monstrous bed on the wall opposite the door, its dark grey bedding turned down neatly.

“Nice room,” Tooru mumbles as he turns back to Iwaizumi, who’s still standing by the door. “So—are we going to discuss payment methods now?”

Iwaizumi chuckles lowly. “All business, aren’t you.” Tooru wants to squirm under his stare, but he wills himself not to.

“Just busy,” he says lightly. “I’m sure you understand.”

Iwaizumi’s lip twitches but he doesn’t respond, instead taking his time to look over Tooru slowly, like he’s appraising his worth.

“You ever worked as a prostitute?” He finally asks.

Tooru blinks at him. “N-No.”

“Pity. You have the face for it.”

Tooru isn’t sure if he should take that as an insult or a compliment, but before he can decide, Iwaizumi locks the door and turns to him. “Turn around. Face the bed.”

Tooru pauses for a second but does what he’s told, regret and anxiety mingling horribly in his stomach.

“Your sister left you with a helluva tab,” he hears Iwaizumi say behind him, though it doesn’t sound like he’s moved from the door yet. 

“Brother-in-law,” Tooru corrects before he can stop himself. “Well, it’s her boyfriend.”

“Hm,” Iwaizumi says. “She sure does know how to pick them, then. He stole my car from the street, then had the audacity to try and sell it back chock-full of his cheap replacement parts.” 

Tooru’s stomach twists, anxious and angry. He knew TJ was a thief and a liar, but stupid enough to screw over the yakuza? He’d at least had a little more faith in him than that.

“Anyway,” Iwaizumi continues, “whoever it was, they left you with a large debt. One million yen.” Tooru makes a small squeak of alarm and whips around to look at him. Iwaizumi smirks. “Well, 1.17 million. But I rounded down for you.” He frowns. “I told you to turn around.”

Tooru turns back reluctantly, his head still swirling around the words “ _one_ **_million_ ** _yen_.” He can hear slow footsteps as Iwaizumi walks towards him.

“We’ll do this on a sliding scale, case-by-case basis,” he continues, his voice like a lazy salesman’s. “I’ll keep track of the numbers, and you’ll keep working for me until it’s all paid off.”

Tooru swallows heavily. “How will we decide the cost?”

He can hear Iwaizumi pause, close enough now to hear his slow drag of breath. “You say “we” like you’ve got a say in it.” His voice is light, but Tooru doesn’t argue, even though he desperately wants to.

“Close your eyes.”

Tooru thinks, for a moment, about resisting, but his fear of making a wrong step is stronger than his fear of Iwaizumi’s intentions—for now. He closes his eyes and squeezes his fingers to his palms, his ears barely catching the soft footfalls as Iwaizumi steps close.

He forces himself to stay still as Iwaizumi’s chest practically presses against his back. He’s expecting the hand that grips his waist, the fingers sliding along the front of his thin shirt, as well as the puffs of heavy breath along the nape of his neck that make his hairs stand up on end. But he’s still unprepared for the hand that snakes its way around to grip his throat, Iwaizumi’s grip loose but firm. Tooru flinches against the warm press of his palm as Iwaizumi leans in close.

“For the next few months,” Iwaizumi growls in his ear, “I own you.” Tooru swallows heavily.

“Yes, sir,” he manages. He tries to make it come out sarcastic, but the hand at his throat makes it sound breathier, more pliant. Iwaizumi squeezes his throat briefly before releasing him.

“Good,” he says, watching as Tooru stumbles away from him, rubbing his throat. “Now: on your knees.”

Tooru’s heart pounds as he tries to process the command. “What?”

Iwaizumi points downwards impatiently. “You heard me. Knees. Now.”

Tooru sucks in a sharp breath but doesn’t move. He can’t give in so easily—not this soon. “How--How much?” He manages. “How much is—this--worth?”

Iwaizumi glares at him impatiently. “Does it matter?” Tooru flinches when Iwaizumi takes a step towards him.

“It matters. To me.” He crosses his arms and tries to return Iwaizumi’s intense gaze. “How much am I worth to you?”

Iwaizumi stops, seeming to seriously consider Tooru for a moment. “Five thousand, for now. And don’t argue,” he says, interrupting Tooru’s protest. “I’m being generous. Now—” He looks pointedly at Tooru, holding a single finger downward. “Knees.”

Tooru wants to say more, but he knows it’s useless, so he reluctantly lowers himself to his knees, trying not to flinch as Iwaizumi moves to stand in front of him. He has to tilt his head back just to meet Iwaizumi’s eyes, leveling him with a defiant gaze.

“Finally,” Iwaizumi mutters, reaching out a hand to stroke Tooru’s bangs. Tooru has to force himself not to yank his head away. “Careful,” Iwaizumi warns, as if he can feel Tooru straining. He cards his fingers through Tooru’s hair, tracing the shell of his ear. “Close your eyes.”

“What?” Tooru asks, even though he knows protesting is useless. He takes a deep breath, giving Iwaizumi one more hard glare, then reluctantly closes his eyes. His ears strain for the sound of a belt buckle or zipper, but all that comes is the soft hum Iwaizumi gives him as he continues to mess with Tooru’s hair. A thumb grazes his check and Tooru flinches involuntarily, shoving down his instinct to pull away and willing himself to stay still as another hand comes to hold his face, tipping his chin up even more.

He can’t help flinching when something brushes past his lips, the hand on his jaw clamping down to hold him in place.

“Mouth,” Iwaizumi orders, pressing down against Tooru’s lips. Tooru holds out just a moment before opening his mouth the smallest amount. His hesitance doesn’t stop Iwaizumi from immediately slipping something inside, shoving it fully into Tooru’s mouth before he can feel what it is: Iwaizumi’s thumb.

Tooru does nothing with it for a moment, just letting it lay on his tongue until Iwaizumi shoves it in more insistently. He doesn’t wait for the verbal order to start sucking down on it, swirling his tongue around it slowly as the saliva in his mouth builds. He continues sucking until he’s drooling, spit spilling down the side of his mouth as Iwaizumi’s other thumb strokes his cheek, his hand still holding Tooru’s head upward.

Iwaizumi finally removes himself from Tooru’s mouth for a moment before sticking in two different, much longer fingers. He thrusts them into Tooru’s mouth until they nearly hit the back of his throat, their unexpected length making Tooru gag. He pushes them in deeper until Tooru hums in protest, then he finally lessens his attempts to reach down Tooru’s esophagus. He does keep them in Tooru’s mouth, though, slowly starting to move them in and out, testing Tooru’s limits as he sucks down on them helplessly.

Tooru can feel the panic start to build in him as he desperately tries to squash it down, the anticipation for Iwaizumi to just _do_ whatever he’s going to do becoming too much for him. He forces himself not to think about what Iwaizumi will be like with him, especially with how rough he is with just his fingers. The thought makes Tooru swallow nervously around the fingers in his mouth.

Iwaizumi moves his hand from under Tooru’s jaw to behind his head, grabbing the short hair there un-gently. Tooru whimpers involuntarily at the pain as his hair is yanked on mercilessly, the dread in his gut building as Iwaizumi continues to thrust his fingers into Tooru’s mouth, speeding them up slowly. His panic is flaring up with more force when Iwaizumi suddenly removes his hand, a string of salvia left hanging between them.

Tooru risks opening his eyes to look up at Iwaizumi, who is looking down at him smugly.

“Now,” he murmurs, “was that so hard?” His grip on Tooru’s hair tightens for a moment before he releases it, stepping back to survey Tooru as he falls forward on his hands. Tooru watches him warily as he pants, his head trying to catch up with the turn of events.

“You follow instructions well enough,” Iwaizumi says as explanation, his eyes still trailing over Tooru hungrily. “I expect you back here tomorrow, not a minute after five.”

Tooru blinks, trying to process. _Was_ _that…all he wanted?_ “I have work,” he tells Iwaizumi, shocked at how fucked his voice sounds. “Four ‘til close.” He prays Iwaizumi doesn’t tell him to come at five anyways. He can’t afford more financial trouble.

Iwaizumi regards him for a moment. “Fine. Just come after work. Where are you heading from?”

Tooru feels a flutter of panic at the thought of one of Iwaizumi’s goons arriving at work to pick him up, of having to explain to his coworkers whose shiny, black Mercedes he’s being driven away in. “West Campus Starbucks. Ten minute walk from here.” Iwaizumi considers him for another long second before nodding.

“Fine. Just don’t be late.” He motions for Tooru to stand and heads to open the door, gesturing him through. “Come through the back door, behind the kitchens. Akaashi will lead you out that way.” He gestures for a man who’s standing down the hall to come towards them. Tooru recognizes him as the man who’d escorted Kira out when he steps closer.

“Take him out the back way,” Iwaizumi tells him, both of them giving Tooru a quick once-over. He tries not to think about how he must look, making a note to fix his hair and face before he goes back out onto the streets.

Iwaizumi gives him one last look before Akaashi leads him away, Tooru’s eyes still following Iwaizumi as he turns the opposite direction and walks away without another glance back.


	2. Sealing the Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! First off, let me just say a huge thank you to everyone who left kudos, commented, or bookmarked this fic! I would give you all so many heart-eye emojis if I could.
> 
> Secondly: I have decided to make my official posting days every Friday. I’ll start the schedule this upcoming Friday with chapter 3, but I figured I’d post this one today since it’s considerably shorter than the one before and after it.
> 
> Otherwise--hope you guys enjoy!

To say it’s the longest shift of his life is an understatement. 

The entire night seems to crawl by at a slug’s pace, the clock barely moving five minutes every time he looks at it. He’s lucky it’s not all that busy tonight: He keeps messing up orders, spilling more than one drink over his apron before quickly remaking it, his front left sticky the whole shift. He’s sure his coworkers notice his less-than-stellar performance, but thankfully no one says anything aside from a couple of concerned glances and a few suspicious looks, leaving him able to book it out of the parking lot with a hurried goodbye to his shift lead without having to explain himself.

Unlike his shift, his walk to the compound goes far too quickly, leaving him standing in front of the compound’s back door before he really even processes what’s happening. He punches in the code Akaashi had shown him, both grateful and disappointed that he’d remembered it as he fumbles his way down the dark labyrinth of unmarked halls.

Tooru has to double back a couple of times, but eventually he does find the right floor, slightly out of breath when he knocks on Iwaizumi’s door. He anxiously waits for what feels like eternity before it finally opens.

Iwaizumi stands in the doorway, looking unamused. “You’re late. Your work closes at ten.”

Tooru’s hands clench behind his back, but he tries to maintain his composure. “I had to stay for clean-up,” he explains. “It usually takes a half hour or so.”

Iwaizumi surveys him, as if trying to decide if Tooru is lying. After a long minute, he stands aside for him. “Come in,” he says gruffly, gesturing towards the bed. “Take off your shirt and pants. Lay them on that chair.”

Tooru doesn’t wait to be told twice, going to the bed and pulling off his clothes in silence, though he can hardly notice it over the thunderous pounding of his heart. He folds them neatly on the chair and turns to Iwaizumi when he’s done.

“Sit on the bed,” Iwaizumi orders. Tooru does as he’s told, silently sitting down on the edge of the mattress. Iwaizumi strolls to the bed, looking over him. “Underwear off.” Tooru does this without protest as well, though a nervous blush spreads across his chest and face as he loops his boxers off his ankles and throws them onto the armchair.

Iwaizumi smiles down at him, sliding a hand down Tooru's chest when he sits up again. “Good. Close your eyes.” Tooru does so begrudgingly, his ears straining for the sound of Iwaizumi’s breathing as his hand slips further down Tooru’s chest, his thumb brushing past a nipple.

“How much?” Tooru manages to ask, his first words since entering the room. The hand on his chest pauses.

“How much?” Iwaizumi repeats, seeming to forget their conversation from yesterday.

“How much is this worth?” He forces himself to keep his eyes closed.

Iwaizumi thinks. “Ten thousand.”

“Ten thousand?” Tooru demands, his eyes flashing open to glare incredulously at Iwaizumi, who meets his gaze coolly. “Twenty thousand.”

“Ten,” Iwaizumi repeats, his eyes turning dangerous. Tooru tries not to feel offense at the confidence of his answer--but how can he not? It was five thousand just for sticking his hand in Tooru’s mouth, but ten for the whole thing?

Iwaizumi smirks as if he can hear the protest in Tooru’s mind. “It’s not like you’ll be doing much work.”

“But it’s not like I’m doing  _ nothing _ ,” Tooru argues, though he knows he’s probably pushing his luck. Iwaizumi regards him wordlessly, swiping his thumb against Tooru’s chest. Tooru shivers when it brushes over his nipple again.

“Fifteen,” Iwaizumi finally concedes, his face expressionless. “Now close your eyes. Keep them shut.”

Tooru knows better than to protest, following Iwaizumi’s orders wordlessly. He can feel Iwaizumi’s hand smooth over his chest before he’s being pushed back onto the bed, giving a small “ _ oof! _ ” of surprise when he hits it. He keeps his eyes closed even as he hears Iwaizumi move, coming to stand in between Tooru’s legs, the soft material of his pants gliding against Tooru’s naked thigh. He shivers when Iwaizumi’s hands run up his sides, spreading across his chest leisurely before Iwaizumi leans in.

Tooru feels Iwaizumi’s breath on his neck before he hears him. “You’d better live up to your word,” he murmurs in Tooru’s ear. Then he pulls away, using a hand on Tooru’s back to flip him onto his stomach, draping over him again before Tooru has a chance to move. “You’ve got to earn that extra five thousand,” he says before pulling back to smack his ass hard.

Tooru yelps, his skin stinging from Iwaizumi’s palm before Iwaizumi presses down on it, swiping his thumb against Tooru’s asscheek. Tooru tries to steady his breathing, lifting himself up on his elbows as Iwaizumi’s hand slides over his back before coming back down to lay just over Tooru’s hole.

Tooru tenses as he feels Iwaizumi’s fingers graze across the skin, tracing his rim teasingly. He wonders for one terrifying moment if Iwaizumi is going to try to use him without any prepping when Iwaizumi pulls back again, slapping Tooru’s ass again before stepping back from the bed.

He returns a moment later, and Tooru hears the distinct sound of a bottle opening before something cool is being smeared against his hole. He tenses at the sensation, his entire body clenching.

“Relax,” Iwaizumi orders from behind him. Tooru forces himself to unclench bit by bit as Iwaizumi’s finger traces around his rim, holding his breath when the first one is slowly pressed inside.  _ Relax _ , he tells himself _. Just relax _ . Iwaizumi is surprisingly gentle as he works Tooru open, though he is aggressive with his pace, going from one to two fingers as soon as Tooru is able. He’s already pushing in a third one by the time Tooru speaks again.

“Wait,” he pants, trying to focus on his words. Iwaizumi’s hand stills.

“What?” he snaps, clearly impatient. Tooru clears his throat before answering.

“You’ll wear a condom, right?” It’s not so much that he’s nervous about get an STD, though he knows he should be. He really just doesn’t want to have to clean up anything afterwards, especially nothing of Iwaizumi’s.

Iwaizumi’s huffs. “Yes,” he says, then presses all three fingers deep into Tooru, making him squirm. “Now, no more talking.” Tooru doesn’t even have a chance to ask if that includes moaning when Iwaizumi starts working him open, hard. It takes all his focus to control his breathing, the pain and pleasure of being stretched open distracting him from everything else. Iwaizumi doesn’t do much more than work Tooru open, however, before he’s pulling out again.

Tooru can barely hear the sound of a belt being unbuckled and the crinkle of the condom over his own thundering heartbeat. He hears the bottle open again before feeling something larger than a finger presses against his hole a moment later. Iwaizumi pauses for just a moment, giving Tooru enough time to bury his face into the pillows before pressing his dick in, seeming not to notice the little whimpers and gasps of pain that escape Tooru as Iwaizumi buries himself inside.

He stops before he reaches the hilt, giving Tooru a moment to collect himself before he pulls out and slams back in, this time pressing until he bottoms out. Tooru grips the sheets tightly, biting into a pillow to keep more embarrassing noises from escaping, and focuses on his breathing as Iwaizumi moves in and out of him slowly, setting a steady but rising pace.

_ Ten thousand _ , he thinks blearily around the pain.  _ He thought this was worth ten thousand? _ Iwaizumi slaps his ass again, hard enough to make Tooru cry out against the pillow in his mouth. He concentrates on his breathing, counting to ten and down again twice until the pain starts to slowly subside into something else, a tiny bit of pleasure building in his gut.

Iwaizumi grabs his hips, giving him two or three hard thrusts before returning to his previous pace, his hands still gripping Tooru’s hips. Tooru moans into the pillow, unable to help it as Iwaizumi brushes against the right spot. Iwaizumi slaps his ass again, and Tooru smothers another moan.  Iwaizumi works at a steadily rising pace, sometimes hitting where Tooru wants, but usually not. He hears Iwaizumi’s breath grow heavier with every thrust, and a bead of his own sweat drips down his back, his body hot and uncomfortable.

He can tell Iwaizumi is starting to get close when his pace begins to stutter, but Tooru isn’t anywhere near close. He wants to tell Iwaizumi to adjust their position so that he hits Tooru’s prostate directly, but he knows he’s not allowed to speak. He’s not even sure if he’s allowed to come on this bed, which probably has very nice, very expensive sheets, so he tells himself it’s better this way and manages to keep his hands from wandering down to his own untouched dick.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi pants above him, his voice breathless with exertion. His hips pound into Tooru mercilessly as he presses a hand between his shoulders, pushing Tooru down into the mattress while his other hand lifts his hips up, changing their position so Iwaizumi is actually hitting Tooru’s prostate.

“Ah!” Tooru puffs as pleasure rushes through him. “Ah, ah, ah!” Iwaizumi slaps his ass again, but this time Tooru moans loudly, the sting of the slap quickly overcome by the pleasure building up inside him.

Then, before Tooru can really follow what’s happening, Iwaizumi is sliding a hand around to his chest and downwards. Tooru startles when Iwaizumi’s hand wraps around his dick, moving in time with Iwaizumi’s own thrusts.

“ _ Yes _ ,” Tooru moans, unable to help himself. He stops worrying about whether he’s allowed to come or whether his little noises escape, moaning and panting alongside Iwaizumi’s little grunts of effort.

Iwaizumi’s hips start to thrust erratically, losing their rhythm as he goes over the edge. His hand on Tooru’s dick tries to keep its pace as Iwaizumi orgasms, his hips still pumping into Tooru as Tooru’s own pleasure grows. He’s almost over the edge himself when Iwaizumi stops, giving a low grunt as he pulls out and leaving Tooru to finish the job himself.

Tooru pries himself from the bed and hobbles over to the bathroom to finish while Iwaizumi flops down on the mussed sheets, breathing heavy. He’s laying with his eyes closed, looking close to sleep, when Tooru re-emerges, hovering by the bathroom door awkwardly.

He’s never done this before—fucking for pay. Was he supposed to stay the night? Pack up and leave?

He opts for the latter option, picking up his clothes from the chair and putting them on. He’s got everything but his shirt on when Iwaizumi stirs again.

“Akaashi will drive you home,” he says from the bed, startling Tooru as he’s putting his arms through his sleeves. Iwaizumi watches him with a strange stare as Tooru nods, pulling the shirt over his head.

“Okay,” he responds, unsure if the “no speaking” rule is still in effect. “When do I…When do you want me to come back?”

Iwaizumi waves away his questioning stare. “I have your number. I’ll let you know.”

Tooru knows better than to ask how he got it, watching wordlessly as Iwaizumi gets up, tucks himself back into his pants—having never gotten undressed—and goes to open the door.

“Have a good night, Oikawa,” he murmurs as Tooru walks through, finding Akaashi walking down the hall towards them. Iwaizumi must have buzzed for him. “I’ll see you later.”

_ Yes, you will, _ Tooru agrees reluctantly, trying not to let the reminder sour his post-orgasm high.  _ Only ninety-hundred-eighty-thousand times’ worth left. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (15,000 yen = around $150 ($141 exact))
> 
> Come back Friday for Chapter 3: Party Foul!


	3. Party Foul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! It's been quite a week.
> 
> Thank you again to everyone who left kudos, comments, or even just read this fic! I hope you all are enjoying this story so far. This chapter is actually a two-parter, so I will be back with the second part next Friday.
> 
> (New character appearances: Kuroo, Tsukishima, Yahaba)

Tooru curses to himself as he sets another latte on the counter, his back twinging painfully as he leans over. It had been a long day--no, actually, it had been a long week, a long month. Ever since he’d started this... _thing_ with Iwaizumi, he’d found himself feeling even more tired and spread thin than usual, barely left with enough energy at the end of the day to flop into bed. Not to mention his body was almost constantly sore. Even though he’d only been back to Iwaizumi’s a handful of times since their first, ah, appointment, each time seemed to leave him in worse and worse shape.

The last time, a couple days ago, had been especially rough on him. After sticking with blow jobs and a couple of repeats of that first round, Iwaizumi had apparently wanted to try something different, flipping Tooru over and giving him the roughest version of missionary he’d ever had. It hadn’t been the easiest night--Iwaizumi seemed to be in some kind of funk, using Tooru more like a wrestling opponent than a lover, and Tooru hated having to face him for that long, unable to bury his face in the pillows or sheets. He’d managed to wrangle a full ¥20,000 out of it, though, so he can’t count it as a complete loss.

“Damn,” Kuroo says behind him, turning towards him now that the register is finally free of customers. “You look wrecked. Who the hell d’you get in a fight with?”

Tooru glances up at him from where he’s cleaning the mixing cups, answering flatly. “The yakuza.”

Kuroo snorts. “Yeah, sure. Well, it sure looks like they had their way with you, whoever it was.”

 _They did,_ Tooru thinks bitterly, but outwardly he plasters on a smile. “Oh, don’t worry. I put up plenty of fight myself.”

“Mm hmm,” Kuroo mutters, opening the drawer to count it. “Hey, Tsuki! We need a couple more ones up here, maybe a roll of quarters.”

Tsukishima glances back at him from where he’s stationed at the drive-thru window, giving Kuroo an incredulous raised brow. “You say that like it’s my job to get it.”

Kuroo grins. “Yeah, well, you love making me happy, right?”

Tsukishima rolls his eyes, turning back to the window to deliver a round of tall frappuccinos to a car of adolescent girls.

Kuroo only grins wider, fully used to being ignored by his coworkers. He forces on a more service-friendly smile when another customer comes up to the counter.

“Hey, Oikawa,” he says as he opens the register to get her change. “Could you go back and get some more ones? I actually am running low.”

Tooru rolls his eyes but peels himself off of the counter, strolling towards the back room.

“Thank youuuuu,” Kuroo calls sweetly as he passes. Tooru resists flipping him the bird.

He finds the extra cash easily enough—it’s not like it was a difficult task; Kuroo was just lazy—but he decides to reward himself with a moment to check his phone, even if just to spite Kuroo a little longer. The first few notifications are fine, just a couple notices from Twitter and a few snapchats he feels no rush to answer, but it’s the single text message that makes his stomach drop:

_Come here after work_

He doesn’t need to have the number saved to know who it’s from.

God _damn_ it—couldn’t he just have a night off? And his back is _still_ killing him. The thought of another round with the yakuza king doesn’t exactly make him eager to finish his shift.

“Oi, Oikawa!” Kuroo yells. “You found it yet?”

Tooru hurriedly slips his phone back into his pocket, knowing Iwaizumi isn’t expecting a response: He knows Tooru will be there.

“Yeah, just found it!” He grabs the extra ones and hurries back to the front, ignoring Kuroo’s withering gaze under the false pretense of his customer-service smile. “Sorry,” he mutters, handing the cash to Kuroo and returning to the hot drink station to work on the customer’s order.

He can still feel Kuroo’s gaze on him as he puts the finished drink on the counter, but he doesn’t return it. “What?”

“Nothing,” Kuroo says, but his voice has lost its mischievous edge. “You feeling all right?”

Tooru scrubs the counter instead of looking at him, but eventually he sighs. “Yeah,” he says defeatedly. “I’m just—tired, you know? Haven’t been sleeping well.”

Kuroo hums in understanding. “Yeah, you look like it.” Tooru glares at him, but there’s nothing teasing in his expression. He sees Tsukishima turn towards them out of the corner of his eye.

“You do look worse than usual,” he agrees, though his monotone voice is neither judging nor caring.

Tooru glares at both of them. “Yeah, well, we can’t all be beautiful all the time, can we?”

His snappiness doesn’t seem to deter either of them, who are both now looking at him with far too much seriousness for Tooru’s comfort.

“We’re just worried, man,” Kuroo says, his voice obviously meant to soothe. “Just—try to get some rest tonight, wouldja?”

Tooru glares between them for another moment before forcing his face into his usual easy smile. “Of course, Kuroo,” he placates, adding: “Don’t worry so much—it causes premature wrinkles.”

Kuroo frowns at him, touching his face. “Eh, whatever,” he mutters, the seriousness from before somewhat evaporating. “I look great either way.” He turns back to the front as another customer approaches, allowing Tooru to relax slightly when Tsukishima turns away as well.

 _Don’t worry, Kuroo,_ he thinks sourly as his hands work on autopilot to fill the new order. _I’ll get some rest. Just whenever my_ “owner” _says I can._

They get a rush in the last hour and a half, leaving Tooru unable to check the time and dread the end of his shift as he struggles to keep up with the flux of orders. The night flashes by in a blur of macchiatos and lattes, until suddenly it’s 9:56 and everyone but a couple of stragglers are left.

“Whew,” Kuroo says from beside him, wiping sweat from his forehead. “I’m beat. What do you guys say we race through side duties tonight and leave the rest for morning shift?”

Tooru narrows his eyes. “Aren’t you on morning shift?”

Kuroo grins self-deprecatingly. “Honey, I _am_ morning shift. Well, me and that new guy, but whatever. He should learn some of the closing duties as well.”

Tooru rolls his eyes. He did not envy Lev for a minute, especially having to open with Kuroo. He sighs anyways, ready to remind Kuroo to set a good example for their kouhais, when Tsukishima peeps up behind him.

“I’m down,” he says, exhaustion undetectable on his face save for the sweat dripping down his brow. “I have homework to finish up tonight anyways.”

Kuroo grins. “Whaddya say, Oikawa? Wanna head home early tonight?”

Tooru is about to open his mouth to give in when he freezes, realizing he won’t be heading home tonight—at least not before going to Iwaizumi first.

“Actually,” he says, voice carefully composed. “I think we should stay until everything’s finished. Make sure we leave things right.”

Kuroo and Tsukishima stare at him as if he’d grown another head. They share a small glance with each other.

“Nah,” Kuroo finally says, pulling open the register to start counting. “I wanna get out of here, get some rest—and so do you,” he adds, looking pointedly at Tooru.

“But I—”

“And since you’re outvoted,” Kuroo continues, counting the stacks of bills in the register, “Plus the fact I’m shift lead—whatever I say goes. Sorry, Tooru.”

Tooru deflates. “God,” he mutters, “You guys are the worst.” Kuroo grins widely as Tsukishima goes back to ignoring them.

“Only for you, baby.” Kuroo winks, writing down their total for the night before giving a lazy wave as the last customer leaves. “Thank you!” He barely waits a second before sauntering to the door, pulling out his set of keys to lock it. “And with that, ladies and gentlemen, we are closed! Let’s get the hell outta here.”

Tooru grumbles but doesn’t argue, going through the motions of his side duties while trying not to focus on his ever-nearing appointment.

“See ya tomorrow, guys!” Kuroo says as they head to their separate cars, the store dark and locked. Tsukishima gets into his car and drives away while Tooru waves over his shoulder, heading in the opposite direction. “Oi, ‘Kawa—”

Tooru rolls his eyes at Kuroo's overused joke, but when he turns to glare at him, Kuroo’s face has lost its jest again.

“I was being serious,” he says, staring Tooru down over the roof of his car. “Get some rest, okay?”

Tooru blinks in surprise before forcing a light-hearted chuckle. “Hm, I guess. Hopefully I won’t wake up with horrendous bedhead like yours.”

Kuroo glares at him, patting his hair self-consciously. “Eh, fuck you. G’night.”

“Good night!” Tooru calls sweetly, waving until Kuroo gets into his car and drives away, leaving Tooru alone in the empty parking lot.

He sighs, dropping his hand. He pulls out his phone to check the time. 10:17. Damn. He blows a piece of hair out of his eyes, weighing his chances of somehow winning the lotto soon before forcing himself down the now-familiar path towards the industrial district.

Even with dragging his feet, it only takes him fifteen minutes to get there, punching in the code for the back door before slipping inside.

He makes his way down the winding route to the top floor, much easier to navigate now that Akaashi finally revealed where they keep the elevators. He’s tempted to take the stairs anyway just to be slow, but he’s not sure he’d actually find the room, and he’s squandered enough of his extra time before Iwaizumi should be expecting him.

He stands in front of Iwaizumi’s door, taking a long moment before knocking.

“Wait,” comes Iwaizumi’s muffled command, leaving Tooru to stand there for a full minute before Iwaizumi opens it.

“You’re early,” he says. Tooru smiles ruefully.

“Does that mean I get a reward?”

“No.” Iwaizumi steps aside to let him in.

Tooru walks straight to the far side of the bed, immediately unbuttoning his jacket and reaching to pull off his coffee-stained work shirt before Iwaizumi stops him.

“Wait,” he says, making Tooru’s hands pause on the collar of his shirt. “We’re doing something different tonight.”

Nervousness flutters in Tooru’s stomach as he lowers his hands. He waits for Iwaizumi to elaborate, knowing it’s better to start off not talking than to be told to.

Instead of explaining, though, Iwaizumi opens his closet to pull out a black suit jacket, throwing it on and smoothing down its silky front. Then he motions for Tooru, who goes to him without thinking, stopping just close enough for Iwaizumi to be able to touch him.

“Clothes off,” Iwaizumi says, disappearing into his closet again before coming back out with another suit jacket and a dark red t-shirt. “Put this on.” He tosses it at Tooru before he’s even had the chance to take off his shirt. Tooru hurriedly puts them on as Iwaizumi pulls out a pair of black slacks from the closet.

“Here,” he says, handing it to Tooru. “They might be a little big on you.”

Tooru puts on the pants, which are indeed too wide in the hips and legs but stop a little too high on his ankles. Iwaizumi hands him a pair of black dress shoes which Tooru also puts on wordlessly, though he looks at Iwaizumi questioningly.

Iwaizumi ignores him in favor of scanning over himself in the mirror, sliding a hand over the silky lapels of his jacket again. “I’m having a party with some investors,” he finally explains, not looking at Tooru. “I’m really just going as a formality since I’m the host. We should be able to leave after an hour, tops.”

 _Ah_ , Tooru thinks, _so I’m your little treat for dealing with your business buddies._ Outwardly, he only nods, adjusting his jacket in the mirror so it sits more comfortably on his shoulders. He can see Iwaizumi looking at him in the mirror, his face almost unreadable.

“I won't be able to babysit you while I'm with them, so I need you on best behavior tonight,” Iwaizumi says, his voice low and calm even with his unspoken threat. “Out there, you’re invisible. Got it?”

“Got it,” Tooru mumbles, already mourning the hours of sleep he was going to miss from this. “I’m invisible.”

Iwaizumi nods. “Good. Let’s go.”

He leads the way, leaving Tooru to trail after him like a well-dressed pet. He leads them down to the elevators, pressing a button labeled “L”. It’s a fast elevator despite the building’s age, but it still takes them nearly a whole minute to reach the bottom floor, every second spent in silence.

The doors open straight into a huge room Tooru has never seen before, a space which he guesses is the entire lower floor, no walls or long halls in between. It’s set up like an upscale nightclub, with a long bar on one side, a huge dance floor in the middle, and low-lit tables lining the walls. The dance floor is crowded with people, some of them dancing to the music, but most of them just mingling, everyone with a drink or smoke in their hand.

Iwaizumi walks into the room as soon as the elevator doors are open, leaving Tooru to awkwardly tag along behind. Iwaizumi notices and raises a brow.

 _Right_ , he remembers, _invisible_. He stops, watching Iwaizumi trail off to go sit at one of the side tables as Tooru hovers awkwardly by the edge of the dance floor.

He decides to get a drink, half needing one and half just looking for something to do. He didn’t ask Iwaizumi how he would find him, but he figures that’s not his problem until Iwaizumi decides it’s time to leave, which would be in who the fuck knows how long.

“Long Island, please,” he tells the bartender, watching as he mixes it together. The bartender hands him his drink wordlessly, moving onto the next customer before Tooru can even wonder if he needs to pay.

 _It is a party, after all,_ he thinks. Tooru should be great at this; he used to go to parties all the time. Well, before work and school took over his life—before Iwaizumi managed to squeeze whatever time was left over out of him. God, he needed a break. Between homework and work and Iwaizumi, he hadn’t had a moment to himself in…how long? Two, maybe three weeks?

Kuroo hadn’t been joking when he said Tooru wasn’t looking too hot (well, just not as hot as usual). He could count on one hand the number of nights he’d slept more than six hours in the last month. He’d even stopped looking in the mirror as much, too disheartened at seeing the toll reality had taken on his beautiful face.

He sips his drink—a little sour, but overall not bad—as he looks out over the crowd. Normally, this would be right up his alley: dancing, partying, making friends out of strangers. But tonight…Tonight he just feels tired. If it were up to him, he’d finish his drink and head to bed.

But it’s not up to him, he remembers bitterly. He’s on Iwaizumi’s schedule, Iwaizumi’s dime…

He can’t even see Iwaizumi, who’s probably sitting somewhere among the darkened tables, sipping his drink with leisure, but he still feels like Iwaizumi’s eyes are on him: watching him, controlling him. Tooru glares at his drink. He hates being controlled— _hates_ it. But he signed up for this, didn’t he? Practically fucking volunteered to be a helpless pet until the yakuza boss says he’s through.

He downs the last of his drink, the sourness matching his mood. He can feel people sidle up to the bar next to him, ignoring him as they tell the bartender their orders.

“You look like you could use a drink,” someone says beside him. Tooru turns to find a man looking at him.

Tooru raises his empty glass. “I’m working on it.”

The man grins. “Hm, well maybe you just need something stronger.”

Tooru raises a brow, fully appraising the man this time. He’s a few centimeters shorter than Tooru, neither plain-looking nor exceedingly handsome, though his sandy hair and round eyes give him a distinctly “cute” look.

“Something stronger?” Tooru asks.

The man’s grin turns slightly more humbled. “Well, something different, at least. If you’re looking for something like that.”

Tooru scrutinizes him, debating his options. _Invisible_ , Iwaizumi had told him. He’d also said they’d be there for an hour, tops—but did Tooru actually trust that? It wasn’t like he cared about Tooru. He’d left him on his own out here, watching strangers and downing drinks until Iwaizumi felt like using him.

Tooru swirls his straw around his empty glass. “I could use something a little stronger,” he agrees, half hoping Iwaizumi really is watching as he lets the man lead him away from the bar and towards the back corner.

The man leads him to the back, in between a large column and the darkened hall of the bathrooms. From here, the party is only slightly visible, though the music is still deafening. The man pulls out two bags from his suit pocket, holding them out to Tooru.

“I just got these in. Freshly made.” Tooru takes one, holding it up to see its contents. It looks almost like the gummy vitamins he used to take as a kid, if those had been bright green and three times as big.

“It’s a new recipe,” the man continues. “Not even on the street yet.” He watches Tooru examine it. “Very strong.”

Tooru runs his fingers along the seam of the bag. “How much?”

The man pockets the other bag in his suit, giving him a winning smile. “You seemed like you could need it. Consider this a free sample.”

Tooru turns to him, raising a brow. “Thank you, uh…”

“Yahaba,” he supplies. “They usually have me running things uptown, but I could manage a delivery further out if you’re interested.”

Tooru is about to respond when a girl stumbles into the wall behind them, using her hands to hold herself up.

“Hey!” She calls, clearly meaning Yahaba. “My friends wanna piece of that…whatever you’ve got.”

Yahaba grins. “Sure thing! Just one minute, man.” He follows her out, leaving Tooru alone with the bag in his hands.

Tooru examines the gummy, squishing it through the bag. Like any college student, he’d tried weed before. Not, like, a _lot_ —he wasn’t Kuroo, after all—but he’d been high a couple of times. It hadn’t really been his thing, not as much as drinking, and though his friends had done edibles, he’d never really wanted to.

At the moment, however, he doesn’t really care. He hadn’t lied when he’d said he wanted something stronger— _needed_ something stronger—than a couple of drinks. Just the thought of having Iwaizumi’s hands on him, rough and bruising, his mouth and his hands and him left all over Tooru…It makes Tooru want to drink straight vodka shots, or eat this gummy thing in one thoughtless bite. He wants to be so blissed out that he might hardly notice Iwaizumi at all, even as he uses Tooru up however he wants.

He opens the bag and shakes its contents into his hand. It even feels like a gummy, squishy and sticky, and it fills nearly half of his palm. He takes a small, hesitant bite, tasting it. It tastes like orange, maybe a little minty, but nothing like weed. He wonders for a moment if that Yahaba guy had duped him, but it was free, he remembers. Then he puts the entire thing in his mouth without a second thought.

He’s just swallowed it when Yahaba comes stumbling back into their corner. “Ah, man. Kids,” he chuckles to himself, still smiling when he looks at Tooru. “Sorry about that, man, I—” He freezes, looking at Tooru’s hands. “Did you…Did you take all of it?”

Tooru nods hesitantly. “You said it was free, right?”

Yahaba stares at him. “Yeah, but uh…It’s pretty strong. Like, really strong.”

Tooru shrugs. “Tasted fine to me.”

Yahaba blinks at him, as if trying to process. “Oh, man, you really did need something.” Then he grins, easing Tooru’s sudden apprehension. “You’re kind of crazy, aren’t you?”

Tooru huffs at the accusation, but he doesn’t argue. “It’s been a long week.”

Yahaba barks a laugh, his face still disbelieving. “Yeah, I guess so.” He shakes his head before turning to go back to the main floor, leaving Tooru to follow after.

Even though he knows it will take a moment to hit, he almost expects the club to look different when he returns. The only thing that’s changed, however, is that the dance floor is even more crowded, filled with people pressed against each other, drinking and talking and grinding.

Tooru follows Yahaba onto the floor, ignoring the little glances he keeps throwing Tooru’s way, as if to check he’s still all there. Honestly—was all that really necessary? He doubts there was even that much weed in that little thing. He probably just assumed Tooru was a lightweight (which, well, he is, but still).

Yahaba leads them to a group of people dancing near the edge of the crowd. He recognizes the girl from earlier, whose face lights up when she sees Yahaba. She says something that Tooru can’t hear over the music before pulling them into her circle of friends, all of them moving along to the music, free and unfocused.

Tooru slowly lets himself un-tense, eventually moving in time with their movements. He’s got just enough buzz left from the Long Island to not overthink it, letting himself enjoy moving along to the heavy beats of the music, blending in with the sea of bodies around him.

The girl from earlier sidles up next to him, holding something out to him: a joint. He takes it without thinking, taking two long drags before passing it back to her. He holds the smoke in as long as he can before blowing out the rest, not realizing he’d closed his eyes until he opens them again.

Across their little circle, Yahaba is staring at him, his carefree smile gone. Tooru ignores him, his body moving to the music on its own, smoke and talking and laughter mingling in the air around him.

The joint is passed around until it’s being held out to him again, but before he can take it, someone reaches for it.

“Hey,” he mumbles as he looks to see Yahaba beside him now, passing the joint to the next person down the line. _Ugh, he didn’t even take it,_ Tooru thinks, but his mind quickly drifts to other things, his body swaying in syncopated rhythm to the music. He closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy it.

After a couple of songs, Tooru looks up to realize Yahaba has left. _Whatever_ , he thinks, still focused on dancing. _His weed sucked anyways._ Tooru might be no pothead, but he’s pretty sure he should’ve felt something by now. Instead, the effects of his Long Island have started to fade, and the couple of joint pulls from earlier aren’t nearly enough to replace it.

 _I’m probably out of time soon, anyways,_ he thinks reluctantly, though he makes no move to try and find Iwaizumi. As far as he’s concerned, Iwaizumi dragged him to this party, so he can be the one to drag him back.

He’s just started to find the rhythm of the next song when he feels it—a swaying in his head, a feeling like the world is tipping a little too much to the left. He slows a little, leaning into the shoulder of the girl beside him.

“Woah,” she says, sounding happy and blissed-out even as she holds him upright. “It’s just hitting you, huh?”

Tooru blinks at her slowly, his mind taken over by the effort to stay standing. He can’t tell if he’s falling or not, but his body suddenly feels unbearably heavy, as if his clothes have been turned to lead. He stops dancing, but it feels like his body keeps moving without him.

“Hey, do you wanna go sit down?” She’s looking at him, but her voice sounds so…distant. Like…it’s not even her voice at all. He sways a little to the left…a little to the right…trying to form the words _Yes, actually, I do_ , when a hand lands on his shoulder.

Tooru finds himself being turned around and met with two familiar faces. The first person, with his eyebrows still pinched in concern, he immediately recognizes as Yahaba. The second, however, is harder to place, his features smooth and expressionless even as he looks over Tooru with dark eyes, the tiny curls of his bangs clinging to his forehead as he says something to Tooru.

“What?” He says, his mouth moving like an uncoordinated automation’s. Dark Eyes says something else to him, his low voice stirring something in Tooru’s mind.

“A…Akaashi,” Tooru murmurs. Akaashi’s brows furrows, and he tightens his hand on Tooru’s shoulder.

“—go,” Akaashi is saying, his voice barely floating above the cloud of noise around them. “We need to get you out of here.”

Tooru nods numbly, allowing Akaashi to lead him out of the sea of bodies, his senses overwhelmed by the swell of noise and motion until suddenly they’re standing still, the two of them caught in a little grey room, the sudden silence almost loud.

Akaashi’s hand is on his arm now, holding Tooru upright as the world sways under his feet. His jacket must’ve been taken off, or maybe he took it off…He can’t remember. He feels like he’s moving…Is he moving? He looks to Akaashi, but he seems to be standing still. Then the doors open again, and Akaashi pulls him into a dark space.

He doesn’t realize what’s going on until Akaashi sits him on the edge of something big and comfortable—a bed. He lies back, his hands spreading over the sheets. Beneath him, the world spins faster. It’s not so much of an enjoyable rocking anymore, but more of a lurching, falling feeling, like he’s on a rollercoaster and can’t get off. He just wants to lie still; he just wants the spinning to stop. He feels like throwing up for a moment, but he can’t bring himself to move to do it, so he grips the sheets tightly instead.

He stares up at the ceiling, which is somehow both staying still and spinning above him. He…He knows this ceiling. Not his home, but—Iwaizumi’s, he realizes. This is Iwaizumi’s ceiling. He’s in Iwaizumi’s bed.

The thought of Iwaizumi makes his stomach lurch. _He’s going to be so mad,_ he thinks blearily. _He’s going to be—SO mad._ Tooru can practically feel the bruises on his skin where Iwaizumi’s fingers will dig in. He’d told Tooru to behave, to be invisible. Tooru groans. He wishes he _were_ invisible. Or that at least that the world would stop spinning and he could face Iwaizumi’s wrath with his head on straight.

He blinks at Akaashi, who’s holding his phone to his ear, glancing at Tooru occasionally. _Who is he calling?_ He wonders. _It’s not—It’s not Iwaizumi, is it?_

His heart is pounding so fast in his chest—way too fast. Is it supposed to beat like this? Is he dying?

Akaashi says something into the phone, still watching Tooru. “Yes,” Tooru hears him say. “He’s fine. I just—No, I don’t know.” He’s silent for a moment, his fingers twitching around his phone. “Yes, sir. I will.”

He hangs up without looking at Tooru again, apparently not noticing the way Tooru is screaming at him with his thoughts: _Who was that? Was it Iwaizumi? Is he coming here?_ He wants to ask with more than just his thoughts, but his mouth won’t work for him, his teeth too busy grinding together as he tries to keep his world from spinning helplessly. He closes his eyes and tries to focus, using the feel of the bed beneath him as an anchor while his head flips and lurches.

The next thing he hears is a loud noise and someone else’s voice flooding through the room, a voice that doesn’t sound like Akaashi. Tooru can’t quite place it, but it sets off alarms in his head.

He wants to open his eyes, but even if his body would work for him, it’s taking everything in him to keep himself together.

“I’ll take it from here,” someone says, close enough for Tooru to hear. He recognizes it better now. _Iwaizumi_. “Tell Yahaba…Take his shit off the floor. It obviously needs a little more work before we distribute it.”

He hears Akaashi’s low reply, but the words are too quiet for him to hear, or maybe too far. He feels a trill of fear run through him when the bed dips next to his head, but it’s all he can do just to hold onto the sheets and keep himself from hurling. He gives an involuntary shudder when something touches his head.

Someone runs a hand through his hair. It feels so nice…so soft and light…He can’t help but lean into it, aching for something to hold onto.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi says, his voice warbling in Tooru’s head. “Hang in there.”

Tooru finally forces his eyes open and looks up at him blearily, trying to focus on his face. He wants to respond, even just to nod, but his body feels far away from him, like his mind is stuck deep under water and everything is above the surface, too far to call out to.

He reaches up, trying to push Iwaizumi’s hand away, but he ends up gripping onto his sleeve instead. Iwaizumi’s hand stills, but his fingers still stroke Tooru’s hair, feeling _so nice_ that Tooru nearly forgets that he should be scared.

 _He’s going to be so mad_ , he thinks again, his thoughts whirling in circles, even though Iwaizumi looks calm _. He’s so,_ **so** _mad._

He tightens his grip on Iwaizumi’s sleeve, trying to keep himself still as his head and stomach roll uncontrollably. The alarms in his head haven’t stopped blaring, making his thoughts an even louder mess, but he can’t let go of Iwaizumi, even as everything screams at him to push him away. He’s taken by another full-body shudder.

Above him, Iwaizumi tsks. “Come here,” says his muffled voice, and then he’s wrapping both arms around Tooru and tugging him into his lap, both of them now somehow propped against the headboard. Tooru’s body shakes uncontrollably as he’s pulled against Iwaizumi’s chest, but it actually does calm his mind a bit, the feeling of being held.

It doesn’t matter if it’s Iwaizumi, or if Tooru should be revolted by the thought of him…It doesn’t matter…

He grips into the front of Iwaizumi’s shirt and curls more tightly into his warm chest. His fingers wrinkle the neat row of buttons as they furl and unfurl helplessly. There’s a distant warning in his mind not to ruin what’s surely an expensive shirt, but Iwaizumi just lets him, pulling Tooru against him more securely.

Tooru’s heart beats thunderously as Iwaizumi runs another soft hand through his hair. He thinks briefly that Iwaizumi might still want something more from him tonight, but the thought of sex makes his stomach roil again, so he shoves it out of his mind, focusing instead on the feel of the hand in his hair, the warmth of Iwaizumi’s chest, the false sense of security he so desperately clings to.

He wants to do something, maybe to ask Iwaizumi if he can trust him, maybe to push him away—but the most he can manage is a jerky tug at Iwaizumi’s shirt and a whimper. Iwaizumi runs a calming hand down his back in response.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs, which isn’t exactly what Tooru wanted to hear, but it somehow relaxes him anyway. _Lean into him_ , begs his body, _let him take care of you_ \--so he lets himself stop fighting it.

They stay there for what feels like hours,with Iwaizumi holding Tooru, running a reassuring hand down his back as his body clenches and unclenches sporadically, slowly working its way back down to normal. After an eternity, his heart finally feels like it isn’t going to beat itself out of his chest, but there’s still a low buzzing in his mind, like static on a distant radio. The world around him only feels like it’s spinning a little, and he doesn’t feel like his thoughts are trying to slip away from him. His body also feels like it’s connected to him again, but it doesn’t respond to him quite the way he wants: He wants to push away from Iwaizumi, to put a little distance between them, but instead his hands pull him in tighter to Iwaizumi’s warm chest.

Iwaizumi’s hand pauses on his back. “Feeling any better?”

Tooru almost wants to pretend to still be incoherent, but he knows better. “Yeah,” he says weakly. “Just…a little.”

Iwaizumi shifts him but doesn’t let go, moving them so Tooru’s back is against his chest and he can rest his chin on Tooru’s head.

“Hmm,” is all Iwaizumi says. “That’s good.”

Tooru focuses on his breathing as Iwaizumi trails a hand up one of his arms lazily, almost like he isn’t even aware of it.

They say nothing else for a long moment, a hesitant silence falling over them, until Iwaizumi breaks it again. “Tired?”

It could be a trick, Tooru thinks briefly, but he doesn’t dwell on the idea. With the drugs still winding their way out of his system, exhaustion now weighs down on him now like a heavy blanket.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible. It seems to be what Iwaizumi was expecting because he only hums in response. Tooru doesn’t resist as Iwaizumi shifts again, following as he’s laid down and handled into a more comfortable position against Iwaizumi’s chest.

The room is quiet around them, and Tooru can hear the sounds of the party still going on far below them if he listens hard, but instead he focuses on Iwaizumi’s breath on his neck, how his chest presses up firmly against Tooru’s back, and allows the lingering warmth of false trust lull him into quick sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't do drugs, kids.  
> (Or at least be safe if you do)
> 
> Next week: The After Party!


	4. The After Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hey, hey! Welcome back, everybody! Hope y’all weren’t kept up too much with worries about Tooru’s morning-after fate ;)
> 
> Some notes:  
> -“Oyabun” is what the head of the yakuza is called, according to Google. It apparently means “foster father” (I also wasn’t sure how to use it with the actual name, so if you know anything about Japanese honorifics, please let me know if I should change it!)  
> -I don't know how to put a link in the notes, but if you have a chance, check out what yakuza tattoos look like. They won't be described very much in this chapter, but I'll come back to Iwaizumi's later on.
> 
> Otherwise: hope you all enjoy! (To all my dialogue lovers: this one’s for you!)
> 
> (New character appearances: Bokuto!)

Tooru wakes slowly, feeling half-dead as he emerges from unconsciousness. Everything is too bright, especially paired with the dull ringing in his head. He turns over to flip his blinds close before realizing the bed he’s in is way too big, and not his bed at all.

Tooru sits up suddenly, panic springing him awake. It takes him a half a second to recognize Iwaizumi’s room and only another one to recognize Iwaizumi himself, who’s staring at Tooru from the table on the other side of the room, a newspaper in one hand and a coffee mug held halfway to his lips. Only then does Tooru realize that he’s still in the same clothes as last night, looking even more disheveled compared to Iwaizumi, who’s dressed neatly in a fresh full-black suit ensemble.

Tooru blinks at him, feeling suddenly very small. “Hi.”

Iwaizumi lowers his mug, his voice surprisingly soft as he speaks. “Hi. How are you feeling?”

Tooru hesitates, taken back by both the question and the concern. “I feel…better,” he settles on. It’s mostly the truth.

Iwaizumi nods. “Here,” he says, scooting a plate of food that Tooru hadn’t seen towards the seat opposite him. “You should eat.”

Tooru gets up from the bed gingerly, walking slowly as if he expects the world to start spinning again. He sits in the chair across from Iwaizumi, averting his gaze when their eyes meet briefly. He carefully scrapes a forkful of eggs into his mouth, chewing slowly. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs. Iwaizumi nods, turning back to his paper and coffee.

They sit in silence, Tooru still trying to catch up with the odd storyline of reality he’s somehow woken up to as he makes his way through his plate of eggs and toast. He can feel Iwaizumi watching him as he eats, so he takes care with how he chews his food, trying to recover his image as a self-functioning adult.

He sees Iwaizumi set down his cup out of the corner of his eye. “That was pretty dumb, last night.” Tooru freezes, daring to look up again. Iwaizumi is staring at him, his look somewhere between caring and disapproving. “You ever taken an edible before?” Tooru shakes his head no. “I thought so. Still,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Yahaba needs to adjust it. It’s too strong for the main market.”

Tooru doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he says nothing, finishing the rest of his meal in tense silence. He half-watches Iwaizumi from his peripheral, but he’s returned to his newspaper, frowning seriously as he scans over it.

After a couple minutes, Iwaizumi sighs heavily, folding his paper in half and setting it on the table. When he reaches for his coat, Tooru finally looks up at him.

“Thank you,” Tooru says quickly. Iwaizumi stares at him. “You know, for not…” He pauses, rephrasing, “For helping me last night.”

Iwaizumi shrugs. “We’ve all had a bad trip before. No big deal.” He stands up, leaving Tooru to watch him as he throws on his coat. “I have a meeting later today, and I have a couple projects I need to check in with, but I should be back by five. You can stay here today, if you’d like.”

Tooru blinks. He’s unsure if it’s actually an offer or if Iwaizumi is telling him to stay. “Um, sure.”

Iwaizumi nods. “Feel free to change into whatever’s in my closet. I’ll have someone come up and wash your clothes.” Tooru nods, suddenly aware of how uncomfortable the clothes from last night feel. “Akaashi will be here if you need anything. Do you have his number?” Tooru shakes his head. Iwaizumi pulls out his phone and types something. “There.” He slips his phone back into his pocket. “You should have it now.”

Tooru hears his phone buzz from somewhere near the bed—probably from the pocket of his work pants, where he’d accidentally forgotten it last night. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he says. He pauses before he opens the door. “Oh, and Oikawa?” Tooru looks up at him, unable to read his expression. “Best behavior while I’m gone.”

Tooru swallows, his throat dry as he remembers Iwaizumi’s same words from the night before. “R-Right,” he manages before Iwaizumi is out the door, leaving it unlocked behind him.

Tooru watches the door for a minute before releasing the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He goes to his discarded pants to pull out his phone and looks over his missed notifications. He quickly skips over Iwaizumi’s missed calls from the night before, moving on to his missed messages. There’s one text from his sister about babysitting Takeru the next weekend and two from Kuroo, both weird memes from some show he’s been trying to get Tooru to watch.

He opens up his group chat for work, feeling only slightly guilty as he types,  _ Anyone want to work an extra evening shift tonight? I need to take a sick day. _

He barely has to wait before Kuroo texts back: _Sick or hungover? ;))_ Tooru has barely rolled his eyes when another appears: _Jk. Glad you’re getting some rest at least._ _Thought you were gonna keel over soon for sure._

Tooru’s gut twists anxiously.  _ Yeah _ , he thinks,  _ I guess I am _ . The fact that he’d gotten more sleep last night than he had in weeks is only a minor comfort for the rest of his humiliation at being so reckless and forcing  _ Iwaizumi  _ of all people to take care of him.

Chibi-chan ends up taking his shift, for which Tooru is more than grateful. Even though Iwaizumi had been nice enough this morning--in addition to his strange kindness last night--Tooru had a feeling the good feelings would soon run out, and he didn’t feel like pissing him off more by having to leave prematurely. 

With that small weight off his chest, Tooru is actually able to realize how strange his situation is. He’s never been alone in Iwaizumi’s room; he’d never stayed longer than to get fucked and get out. It also doesn’t escape him that he spent the whole night in Iwaizumi’s bed, and without sleeping with him first. 

He’ll have to admit it is a nice room, even if its decor leaves something to be desired. It’s chic in a minimalist-bachelor-pad kind of way, though it’s very obvious that Iwaizumi has spent no concern on adding in personal touches, the only thing that even marks it as his being the smell of his cologne that clings to everything, and even that isn’t very distinct. There are no pictures, no knick knacks or art or even a single book that would give Tooru any insight into the man he’ll be chained to for the foreseeable future. In a way, he’s fine with that; he doesn’t need to start seeing Iwaizumi on any sort of personal level, their whole arrangement aside. And in another way, he’s not.

There’s no sink or kitchenette in the room, and Iwaizumi had left his plate on the table, so Tooru merely stacks his dish on top before he stands and goes to inspect the room a little more closely. He pilfers through the dresser drawers and the huge closet, their contents primarily black (not that Tooru is surprised). Then he strolls over to the desk on the other side of the room, scanning over the papers that are piled atop it. They’re all mostly spreadsheets, lists of numbers and figures that Tooru wouldn’t understand even if he tried. It occurs to him vaguely that he could take pictures of this and use it for blackmail or bring it to the police, but something in him feels like Iwaizumi would know somehow, and he’s already in enough hot water to begin with.

He knew Iwaizumi was a busy guy, but the stack of papers gave Tooru a headache just by looking at it.  _ Not that yours is any better, _ he thinks, and instantly he’s reminded of all the work he was supposed to be doing today. 

He rubs his eyes, considering his options. On the one hand, he was sure there was a computer somewhere around here that he could use, and he could probably figure out how to download most of his readings from there. On the other hand, though that would save him from having to leave, he still wouldn’t have his notes, nor would he be able to work on his half-finished essay that he’d saved to his laptop’s drive.

He sighs, pulling out his phone to open the message from Iwaizumi with Akaashi’s number. 

_ Hey Akaashi, _ he types, _ it’s Oikawa. Iwaizumi said I could stay here for the day, but I need to go somewhere real quick first. Would you or someone be able to drive me? _

He hits send before he can talk himself out of it, figuring it worth the risk of leaving to get his stuff, especially if Akaashi goes with him.

He gets a reply almost immediately:

_ Hi Oikawa. Yes, Iwaizumi-san said you might contact me. I can come get you in just a minute. _

Tooru decides to change back into fresh clothes while he waits, rummaging through Iwaizumi’s drawers until he finds a pair of sweatpants and a non-black t-shirt that look comfortable. He’s just transferred the stuff from the pocket of his other pants when he hears a knock on the door.

He opens it to reveal Akaashi, who’s dressed as he always is in a black button down and slacks, his sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. His eyes flicker over Tooru, but otherwise he doesn’t mention the night before as he says, “You needed me?”

Tooru stands aside to let him in. “I need to get some things from my apartment. Just my laptop and a couple of textbooks so I can work.”

Akaashi gives him a slight nod, not entering. “We can take one of the cars from the garage. I’ll lead you there.” He turns without waiting for Tooru, leaving him to quickly grab his keys and follow after. 

Akaashi leads him down a series of complicated hallways, eventually stopping at another set of elevator doors that Tooru hadn’t even been aware were there. It takes them down to the ground floor, apparently, though it’s as windowless as every other room there except Iwaizumi’s. Akaashi leads them down the hall, every step bringing them closer to where the sound of an electric motor is coming from. 

They stop where the sound is the loudest, and Akaashi opens the door to reveal the biggest indoor garage Tooru has ever seen. The motor noise is deafening here, but as Akaashi leads them past a long row of dark SUVs, it suddenly stops.

“Hey, hey, hey!” calls out a loud voice. It echoes too much for Tooru to locate, but he can pretty much guess who says it when a smiling man with shocking black-and-white hair appears, holding his arms out as he walks towards them. 

“Akaashiiiiiiiii!” The man says happily.

“Hello, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi replies monotonically. Tooru can’t tell if he’s exasperated or simply refuses to show emotion, but it only makes Bokuto only grins wider.

“Hey, I didn’t expect up down here today!” He says, folding his arms “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to visit?”

Akaashi gestures behind him where Tooru is standing. “I’m driving Oikawa-san to his apartment to pick up a couple things.”

Bokuto looks at Tooru with surprise, as if finally noticing him. “Oh, hey!” He says before quickly turning back to Akaashi. “Well, if you need a ride, why don’t you let me take you guys?”

Akaashi frowns. “That isn’t really necessar--”

“Ah, come on, ‘Kaashi!” Bokuto says. “I’ve been cooped down here all week. I need a little break.” He throws an arm around Akaashi’s shoulders, leading them further into the garage. “Besides--I bet I can get you there in  _ half  _ the time!”

“That also isn’t necessary,” Akaashi tells him, though Tooru notices he doesn’t put up a fight as Bokuto steers him around the shop, coming to a sudden stop in front of a sleek, red sports car.

“Whaddya say, huh? Huh?” He asks, gesturing at the car. “Isn’t she a beauty?” Akaashi shrugs off his arm as Tooru nods appreciatively.

“We were looking for something more low-key, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto’s shoulders droop as he practically deflates. “Ah, okay. Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Akaashi replies. He points at a black SUV further down the line, identical to the ten others they’d passed before. “Can you drive that one?”

Tooru watches as, like magic, Bokuto immediately perks back up into his cheerful self. “Ah, A _ ka _ ashi--of course I can! I don’t know why you even ask.”

They follow him to the car, Tooru getting in the back as Akaashi takes the passenger’s side and Bokuto the driver’s.

“All right!” He says excitedly, turning the key and revving the engine like a street racer. “So where are we heading to?” Tooru tells him his address, and Bokuto yanks the car into reverse, grinning widely.

“Your mirrors, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi reminds him.

“Ah, Akaashi!” He complains, but he stops to adjust them anyway before backing up all the way and peeling out of the garage.

Bokuto wasn’t kidding about how fast he drives; they get to Tooru’s apartment in record time, only losing Tooru’s stomach along the way.

They come upstairs with him, bickering the entire way up to his fourth-floor apartment.

“No, Bokuto-san,” Tooru hears Akaashi say for what must be the tenth time since they’d left.

“Ah, but Agh _ aah _ shee,” Bokuto whines. It seemed the more he complained, the worse he mangled Akaashi’s name. “Why not?”

“Because Iwaizumi-san would be very upset if you tried to launch a baking-soda rocket off the roof,” Akaashi explains. 

“Only  _ if  _ he found out,” Bokuto argues, sounding nearly identical to Tooru’s six-year-old nephew.

Akaashi is explaining the likeliness of Iwaizumi not knowing what happens on the roof of his own building as Tooru unlocks the door, leaving it open in case they want to follow. He goes straight to his bedroom, picking up his backpack and shoving his laptop, notebooks, and charger inside. He probably overestimates how much work he’ll actually get through, but it’s better to have something just in case Iwaizumi comes back later than he’d said.

When he comes back out, Akaashi and Bokuto are still standing outside the door, though Bokuto is leaning his whole upper body into the apartment to look around.

“Wow,” he says, examining Tooru’s tiny kitchen-living room space. “You really live like this?”

Tooru frowns, standing to block some of Bokuto’s view. “It’s not like Starbucks really pays enough to live luxuriously,” he reminds him sourly. He shoulders his bag to leave, forcing Bokuto out of his apartment as he turns to lock the door.

“You’re being rude, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi admonishes quietly. Tooru glances at him, though he’s glad to find there’s no signs of pity on Akaashi’s emotionless face.

“Oh,” Bokuto says, looking appropriately chastised as he glances at Tooru. “Sorry.”

Tooru sniffs haughtily. “It’s fine,” he says, only mildly still offended. “It’s not like I’ll live here forever.”

Bokuto’s face perks up again. “Right!” He says, trailing Akaashi as they turn to leave. “Maybe one day you’ll live in a place like Iwaizumi-san’s!”

Tooru adjusts his backpack on his shoulder, glad he’s at the back so neither of them can see the flash of emotions that cross his face. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Maybe.”

  
  


Bokuto follows them back inside the compound when they return, claiming he’s “taking a long lunch” as he trails behind Akaashi, with Tooru following them both. Akaashi takes them the long way around, giving a partial-tour of the parts of the compound Tooru has yet to see. They go down several halls of dark metal doors, a couple open to reveal offices or gruff-looking men sitting around tables. They turn away when they see Akaashi and Bokuto, but Tooru notices a couple curious stares that linger on himself.

Akaashi walks them around what must be half the building, finally pausing when they reach a set of large wooden doors--the only non-industrial detail Tooru has seen in the entire compound.

“This is the lower study,” Akaashi explains, the first time he’s actually said anything on their tour. Tooru stares up at the large entryway.

Beside him, Bokuto stares at the doors curiously. “I didn’t know we had a library,” he muses.

Akaashi nods. “It was built by Yuto-oyabun a few decades ago. He also used it for meetings and appointments, but Iwaizumi-san usually takes those in the lower conference rooms now.”

Tooru touches the wood lightly. “Can we go inside?”

Akaashi looks at him for a moment before giving a small nod, opening the door for them to step inside.

Tooru was expecting something like the main floor of his university’s library, but that very quickly pales in comparison. It’s huge, not just floor-wise but ceiling-wise as well, extending what must be two or three stories’ height. The room itself is also incredible, filled with enough shiny wood and soft-looking couches to pass as something from an American Ivy League college, or maybe a rich grandfather’s mansion study. A long wooden table splits the room in two, with a few sets of comfy couches on one side and a ginormous wooden desk on the other. 

On either end of the tables, the walls are made up entirely of bookcases, filled nearly to the top with books. The wall behind the desk is almost entirely window, the same intensely-tinted glass that lines one side of Iwaizumi’s room, which Tooru had mistaken for a wall until he’d caught a glimpse of car lights flashing in the far distance. Iwaizumi claimed the glass was too dark to see through from the other side, but it had still freaked Tooru out the next couple of times they’d had sex.

Tooru strolls into the middle of the room, craning his head to admire the tall ceilings as Bokuto chatters animatedly from the corner, apparently examining the books. He notes that the polished wood features reach all the way up the wall and to the ceiling, with a dozen wooden beams holding up the ceiling.

“Wow,” he murmurs appreciatively. Beside him, Akaashi hums in agreement. 

He finally looks down to examine the rest of the room, pressing a hand against one of the couches. It’s as soft as it looks, he finds, maybe even softer. Tooru can see why Yuto-oyabun liked this room so much. If it had been him, he probably never would have wanted to leave.

He sighs softly. “Why wouldn’t Iwaizumi want to use this?” He wonders aloud. Akaashi looks at him.

“He never liked it after Yuto-oyabun left,” he explained, his voice suddenly soft. “It reminded him too much of his father.” 

Tooru turns to look at him, his eyes questioning. “Yuto-oyabun....” 

Akaashi turns away, looking up at the high ceilings. “It was his masterpiece,” is all he says as explanation. “They spent a lot of time here.”

Tooru follows his gaze, though his mind is too occupied to notice the intricacies of the crown molding anymore. He tries to imagine Iwaizumi as a child here, picturing his permanent scowl and intimidating eyes with a child’s pinchable cheeks, but he can’t.

“Hey, Akaashi!” Bokuto yells from the other side of the room. “What the hell do all these books say? I can’t read their titles.”

Akaashi sighs, already moving towards the other side of the room. “Please don’t play with the books, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto’s protests are tuned out as Tooru strolls over to look at the books himself, his finger leaving a line as he swipes it across their dusty spines. It’s an impressive collection; Tooru’s not a huge fan of books, but even he can appreciate that. He notes just a few of the titles-- _ Robinson Crusoe, Inferno, Crime and Punishment _ \--and tries to imagine Iwaizumi reading these. 

_ Did he even go to school?  _ He wonders. He doubted the yakuza provided very good elementary education services, but Iwaizumi was obviously a smart guy, at least enough to keep Tooru on his toes. He can almost picture Iwaizumi making his way around a university, taking lecture notes and spending hours studying with that perpetually furrowed brow. He can see him with history or political science or math--anything, really--giving it the same focused intensity he seems to give everything else. Tooru can’t deny the look suits him, even if he can’t imagine running into someone like Iwaizumi in one of his classes. He’d probably make sure to sit several rows behind him, if just to avoid that intimidating stare.

“Oikawa-san?” Akaashi says from behind him. Tooru turns to him. “We’re going to leave now. Would you like to stay here for awhile?”

Tooru blinks at him. “Can I?”

Akaashi nods. “It’s a good place to study. I can come and get you in a couple hours, if you want.”

“That sounds great,” Tooru says immediately, suddenly reluctant to leave. Akaashi nods and leaves with Bokuto trailing behind him, chatting animatedly as they go.

The room feels somehow bigger once he’s alone, the tall ceilings seeming to stretch even higher as he looks around the room. Deciding he probably did need to start on studying, Tooru shoulders his bag and sits at the end of the long wooden table, wiping away some of the dust before setting his books on it.

It takes him a while to get into a studying groove, but once he can actually focus, the hours seem to melt away, until suddenly his phone is vibrating with a text from Aakashi:  _ Are you ready to leave? _

He looks at the clock on his laptop. 4:30 already. Yikes. He really should get going, wanting to be back in the room before Iwaizumi came back.

Akaashi arrives a few minutes later, this time without Bokuto trailing behind, and leads him around the building, arriving at Iwaizumi’s room with plenty of time. Tooru decides to use the extra time to squeeze in a couple more readings, settling himself on the bed and settling his laptop on his lap.

He actually gets through several of his assigned readings and is knee-deep into a paragraph on adolescent brain formation when the door finally clicks open again, revealing a tired-looking Iwaizumi. He’s still dressed in his all-black suit ensemble, but he’s carrying a plastic takeout bag and looking significantly more disheveled than this morning.

He looks at Tooru, letting the door fall shut behind him. “Sorry,” he says, sounding worn, “took a little longer than I expected.” He walks to the table in the corner and sets the bag down. “You hungry?” 

Tooru looks at the clock on his screen, surprised to find it’s already past 6:00. “Oh, uh, sure,” he says, wondering how the time had flown past so quickly without him noticing. “What do you have?”

Iwaizumi opens the bag, pulling out a plastic box and two large bowls. “One tonkotsu ramen, a shoyo bowl with tofu, and gyoza.”

Tooru shuts his laptop, setting it to the side as he stands to stretch. “Tonkotsu sounds perfect.”

Iwaizumi sets a bowl across from him as Tooru approaches before opening up his own bowl and the box of gyoza, releasing the build-up of delicious-smelling steam. He hands Tooru a pair of chopsticks as they sit.

“Thank you,” Tooru murmurs, watching Iwaizumi pull his own pair apart and dig into his bowl hungrily. Iwaizumi grunts around the food in his mouth, apparently too tired or too hungry for actual words.

_ Must’ve been a long day, _ Tooru thinks, pulling apart his chopsticks more delicately and taking his time to rub down the rough edges, even though his stomach has finally woken with hunger.

He watches Iwaizumi eat, barely looking like he’s breathing as he shovels in bites, his brows pinched in concentration. His tattoos peek out from under his sleeves, though Tooru knows now how they cover nearly every inch of his arms and chest, which had been quite a shock to him the first time he’d seen Iwaizumi without his shirt.

This is a dangerous man, Tooru reminds himself--he’s eating dinner with a man who has probably broken people’s bones and been hunted by police, splitting cheap takeout and a box of gyoza like they’re roommates.

He looks at Iwaizumi’s hands, admiring the way the chopsticks look so small in his grip, his fingers rough and probably strong enough to snap the wood in pieces with just a little more force.

_ I should be more careful _ , he thinks; it’s dangerous to allow himself to get this close, to feel almost at ease in the presence of a man who could probably snap Tooru into pieces as well if he wanted. He knew the strength behind those hands well enough now, and he knew if he wasn’t cautious, they could do more than just pin him to a mattress.

He pinches a gyoza with his chopsticks, biting into it slowly as his mind wanders to other things--his life outside this little daydream, for instance. He has a project due on Friday, he knows, and a couple of midterm papers that he needs to start soon as well. They’re still a while away, but Tooru is well aware of how quickly his time seems to evaporate, especially lately.

He swallows a little bitterly, wondering not for the first time if there was a way to predict Iwaizumi’s moods, at least enough to guess when he might call on Tooru rather than waiting on a text to be summoned. _ I wonder if he’d give me a projected calendar if I asked _ , Tooru thinks half-jokingly, though he highly doubted the yakuza boss would ever sit down and figure out some kind of booty-call schedule for him, even if he was brave enough to ask.

He stirs the broth in his bowl around as he thinks, sighing aloud without meaning to.

Iwaizumi glances at him. “Long day?”

Tooru looks down at his food. “Long week,” he mumbles, chasing a piece of pork around the bowl.

He can feel Iwaizumi watching him. “You’re in school?” Tooru hums in acknowledgement.

“Yes,” he says, capturing the piece with his chopsticks. “Human development, but I’m pre-law.”

Iwaizumi’s brows lift in surprise. “You want to be a lawyer?”

Tooru frowns, chewing slowly before swallowing. “Well, sort of.” He glances at Iwaizumi, surprised to find he’s actually paying attention. “I want to work on child protection laws. I probably won’t see the courtroom much, though. Not really my scene.”

Iwaizumi gives him a small grin. “That’s a shame. I kind of like those guys.”

Tooru raises a brow. “Why? Because they keep you from jail?”

Iwaizumi’s grin widens. “Well, yeah. Plus, they’re not friends of the law either, but they get away with screwing over cops.”

Tooru smirks. “Well, we’ll see if I even make it through school first. Otherwise I might be hitting you guys up for employment.” He says it as a joke, but Iwaizumi’s grin slips a fraction.

“You don’t want to work here,” he mutters, piercing one of his chopsticks through a gyoza as he grabs it. Tooru watches him scrape it off with his teeth, a move that’s as sexy as it is slightly alarming. 

He swallows the dumpling, half-smirking at Tooru. “We’re better suited for business majors anyways,” he says, “or self-loathing arts majors.”

“Business majors?” Tooru asks. The arts thing is self-explanatory.

Iwaizumi gives him a real grin. “Yeah, they’re all just bastard enough.”

Tooru snorts, thinking of Kuroo.  _ Yeah, he sure is bastard enough _ . He makes a note to keep Iwaizumi in mind as a reference if Kuroo ever runs into a dead end in his job search.

“What about you?” He asks Iwaizumi. “Were you a business bastard too?”

Iwaizumi grunts a half-laugh. “Nah, though I probably should’ve been. Yuto-oyabun had me roped into the business when I was young, made me work my up. He didn’t think a formal education was really necessary.”

Tooru notes the tension that’s crept up into Iwaizumi’s shoulders. “Your father?”

Iwaizumi glances at him. “Yeah. He ran this thing for thirty years after my grandfather retired.” 

“And your father? He’s retired?”

Iwaizumi pauses, the hand holding his food lowering. “Sort of. It was kind of a forced retirement.”

Tooru pinches his brows together. “Oh, I see. Sorry for asking.” Iwaizumi waves him off, returning to his bowl.

“S’okay. Everyone kinda knows by now.” 

Tooru regards him curiously. “And you like it? Being the boss?”

Iwaizumi frowns, looking serious as he chews. “I’m good at it,” he finally says. “I get the job done.”

Tooru nods. He understands, even if it’s not exactly the same. He also knows better than to push for more.

They finish their meals in silence, Tooru swallowing the last of his noodles before finally daring to speak again.

“So,” he says, determining a need to change the subject. “About tonight…”

Iwaizumi looks at him. “What about it?”

“Well, I just figured since I’m here, y’know…” Tooru swallows, hoping he doesn’t seem nervous. “I just want to know where you wanted to head this.”

“Head this?” Iwaizumi repeats, making Tooru feel dumb for his choice of words.

He nods. “I mean...If you’re still interested in doing anything, that is.”

It’s a stupid suggestion--why else would Iwaizumi let him stay if he hadn’t planned on sleeping with him?--but Iwaizumi stares at him for a long moment, as if he’s trying to decide.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity to Tooru’s poor nerves, Iwaizumi sets down his diningware quietly and stands.

“Get on the bed,” he orders calmly, his face unreadable. Tooru does so without complaint, feelings of success and regret swirling in his stomach. He pauses at the foot of the bed, then decides to slide his hands forward until he’s on his elbows, his stomach nearly touching the mattress.

“Turn over,” comes Iwaizumi’s order behind him. Anxiety surges in Tooru, but he does it anyway, flipping to lie flat on his back, his eyes trained on the ceiling.

Iwaizumi strolls over to him, appearing a moment later between Tooru’s legs. He runs his hands up Tooru’s thighs, stopping when he reaches his hips. 

“You’re still feeling alright?”

Tooru startles at the question. “Y-Yes.” 

Iwaizumi hums, his grip on Tooru’s hips tightening. “Good,” he says. “I don’t really feel like having you throw up on me tonight.” Then he pushes his hands along Tooru’s sides, nudging up his shirt so half his stomach is exposed.

Tooru lets his eyes close, half-focusing on the feeling of skin-on-skin. He lifts his arms when Iwaizumi’s hands tug at the bottom of his shirt, allowing him to pull it off. 

He feels Iwaizumi lean over him, his lips on Tooru’s neck a moment later. 

“Mm,” Iwaizumi hums, sucking a mark into the sensitive skin. “I missed this yesterday.”

Tooru stops himself from tensing too obviously. “I’m sorry you had to wait,” he says, even though it’s cringey as hell. Iwaizumi doesn’t seem to care, moving to nip and suck a line of marks down Tooru’s throat. 

By the time he reaches his collarbone, Tooru has already buried his hands in Iwaizumi’s hair, gently gripping the short strands. He feels Iwaizumi fumble with his belt and pulls back to do it himself.

“Here,” he mumbles, unlooping it with ease. He lets Iwaizumi unbutton and remove his pants for him, though, returning his hands to Iwaizumi’s hair when he kisses a line back up Tooru’s stomach.

Their mouths finally meet, a clash of tongues and teeth, as they grind against each other, Tooru reveling in the friction he gets against Iwaizumi’s pants. They don’t usually do this much foreplay--they’re usually not facing each other for long enough, save for the one round of missionary last time, though Iwaizumi was too worked up to do anything as vanilla as _ kissing _ \--but Tooru suspects Iwaizumi is still handling him with kid gloves. Maybe he really is worried about Tooru throwing up on him--he doesn’t know. Whatever it is, Tooru appreciates having the time to allow his anxiety to ease.

Iwaizumi pulls back from him, unbuttoning his own shirt with practiced efficiency. It’s thrown off before Tooru can even think to offer help, followed quickly by his undershirt and pants before he’s crawling back on top of Tooru, using his weight to push him into the mattress. He kisses a little more roughly now, clearly getting riled up, and Tooru can’t help but moan a little when he grinds their still-clothed groins together.

Tooru is just starting to breathe heavy when he feels Iwaizumi’s mouth brush his ear. 

“We’re going to make up for last night,” he murmurs, grinding against Tooru with a little more force. Tooru whimpers in return, tightening his grip on Iwaizumi’s hair. 

Then Iwaizumi is pulling back again, forcing Tooru to release him and watch, panting, as he goes to the dresser to pull out a bottle of lube and a shiny condom packet. 

Iwaizumi tosses them on the bed next to Tooru when he returns. He slides his hands up Tooru’s thighs and back down again, dragging his underwear down with them. Tooru lets himself be handled into a new position, his legs lifted and spread until he’s left completely exposed. He tips his head to the side, barely watching Iwaizumi out of the corner of his eye as he uncaps the bottle and squeezes a generous amount onto his hand.

Tooru grips the sheets when the first finger touches him, never quite prepared for the coolness of lube. Despite his obvious arousal, Iwaizumi goes slow with him, working Tooru open with one finger until he’s moaning quietly.

He has to bite down on his hand when Iwaizumi pushes in a second finger, almost entirely just to lessen the embarrassing noises that are spilling out of his mouth. It’s already better than last time, he notes, but he still hates how exposed laying on his back leaves him. His whole face is open for Iwaizumi to read, the noises that pour out of him much harder to muffle and hide.

He moans loudly around his hand when Iwaizumi adds a third finger, inching it in bit by bit until he’s all the way in, and then curls them, leaving Tooru’s legs scrambling as his body fights between jerking away and trying to pull him in further. Iwaizumi grabs one of his legs to still it.

“Watch it,” he murmurs, then curls his other hand upwards again, fully hitting Tooru’s prostate. Tooru’s whole body spasms, his captured leg fighting against Iwaizumi’s hold.

“Sorry,” he pants, tightening his grip in the sheets to hold his body still as Iwaizumi’s fingers push in hard, once, twice, before completely pulling out.

Tooru focuses on leveling his breathing as Iwaizumi pulls off the rest of his clothes, rolling on the condom and running a slickened hand over it before returning to between Tooru’s thighs.

Tooru closes his eyes when Iwaizumi leans over him, tightening his grip on the sheets as Iwaizumi pushes in. It’s a slow burn, but Iwaizumi works him into it, thrusting in small amounts until he’s fully buried inside. His fingers dig into Tooru’s hips as he lets him get adjusted, waiting until he nudges Iwaizumi with his foot to continue.

Tooru hardly notices the lingering soreness in his legs as Iwaizumi starts moving him. Despite the position, it’s nothing like before: Instead of having to cling to Iwaizumi’s back as he drives into Tooru roughly, Tooru has one hand on Iwaizumi’s hair and another on his shoulder, trying to pull him even closer to himself as Iwaizumi sets them at a steady pace.

It’s still not the best scenario--his legs are pushed too close to his shoulders to feel comfortable, and he still feels far too exposed this way--but it’s far from horrible. It doesn’t take long for pressure to start building in his gut, Tooru giving soft grunts of pleasure with every movement of Iwaizumi against him.

Iwaizumi buries his face into Tooru’s shoulder, his breath hot against Tooru’s neck. He doesn’t say much--he rarely does--but Tooru knows he’s enjoying it from the flex of his hands on Tooru’s hips, the way he pants against Tooru’s skin, adjusting the angle of his hips to bury himself even deeper inside him.

“Oh, God,” Tooru moans, his grip on Iwaizumi tightening as they speed up. He can feel Iwaizumi’s mouth as it falls along his skin in an attempt at opened-mouth kisses. He moans louder when Iwaizumi latches on to a patch of skin at the base of his throat, sucking hard.

“ _ Iwaizumi _ ,” he pants as his one hand trails down Iwaizumi’s neck, the other clutching against his back in an attempt to force them even closer together, even though every inch of their chests is touching and sticky with sweat.

Tooru wraps his legs around Iwaizumi when he quickens their pace, his heels digging into Iwaizumi’s back as he tries to keep himself together. There’s not really space between them for him to touch himself, his dick trapped between their stomachs, but it’s hard for him to think about anything other than coming as Iwaizumi pounds into him, fast and powerful. 

He doesn’t give Tooru even a second of reprieve, maintaining his break-neck pace until his own rising pleasure makes him stutter, still not slowing until he goes over the edge. He pumps into Tooru even as he rides out his orgasm, lingering inside him a little longer with every thrust.

Tooru is still clinging tightly to Iwaizumi as his pace slows and he eventually stops, panting and lying heavily on him, his weight making it almost hard to breathe. 

Tooru is about to ask him to roll over when he leans back, pulling out of Tooru at the same time. The feeling of Iwaizumi leaving him is as unpleasant as always, but he’s very quickly distracted by the hand that wraps around his dick, pumping it at nearly the same speed Iwaizumi had been going before.

_ “Oh, _ ” Tooru moans, his heels digging into the mattress. “Oh, oh God,  _ yes, yes, yes-- _ ”

It doesn’t take long for him to reach his release, just a half a minute of hurried stroking and four or five rough pumps, Iwaizumi’s hand squeezing the head of his dick just enough to make him come over the edge. He digs his arms into the mattress as Iwaizumi pumps him through it, seeming not to care as Tooru spills all over his hand. 

When he finally pulls away, Tooru is left spent and panting, feeling unable to lift himself from the mattress even if he wanted to.

He vaguely notices Iwaizumi moving away from the bed, disappearing for a moment before coming back to wipe something wet across Tooru’s thighs. He flinches before he realizes Iwaizumi is cleaning him with a washcloth, wiping off whatever hadn’t landed on his hands.

“Thanks,” he says breathlessly, his heart slowly working its way down to normal again. Iwaizumi grunts, tossing the washcloth on the ground before settling down on the bed as well, moving until he’s resting against the headboard.

Tooru knows this is his cue to leave. He allows himself another few moments to breathe before he forces himself to get moving, his body already blooming with soreness. He quickly finds his clothes and puts them on, only turning to Iwaizumi when he’s putting on his jacket.

Iwaizumi is watching him from the head of the bed, looking blissed out and nearly asleep.

“I’ll text you,” he mumbles at Tooru, who barely catches it. “Probably sooner than later.”

Tooru nods, trying not to feel too smug. “I’ll keep my phone on,” he says cheekily. Iwaizumi just waves towards him lazily.

“Just don’t get into any more trouble,” he grumbles before sinking down onto the mattress, closing his eyes and turning away from Tooru before he’s even gotten his shoes on. 

Tooru looks at him a moment, amazed at the difference a good fuck gives Iwaizumi’s face.  _ Without his usual scowl, he almost looks...nice. _ Then he slips out the door without making a sound, making sure to shut it quietly behind him before sneaking out the back to go home, very eager to pass out in his own bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I love soft(er) Iwaizumi?? Probably a bad pick for a yakuza fic, but oh well, lol.
> 
> Also apologies for the business/arts majors jokes--but as an arts major myself, it’s kind of mandatory ;)
> 
> Next week: "Ride or Die"!


	5. Ride or Die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this update is over a week late. I didn't give up on this fic--don't worry! The past two weeks were just a little crazier than I'd anticipated, and this chapter in particular came out as gently as a kidney stone.
> 
> I should be back on my regular Friday-update schedule from now on, unless I state otherwise before. Anyway--here's "Ride or Die." Enjoy!
> 
> (New character appearances: Daichi)

“Whew,” Kuroo says, resting his elbows on the counter as the last of their sudden midday rush thins out. “You sure you don’t want to do register for a while?”

Tooru smirks, starting the steps for a chai latte on autopilot. “I’ve seen how you throw drinks together, Kuroo--emphasis on “ _ throw” _ . I think I’ll stick back here for now.”

Kuroo frowns. “Meh, you’re no fun. I’d ask shorty, but I ain’t about to handle another crankpot in a Subaru.” Tooru snorts, vaguely listening to Hinata as he apparently struggles to keep up with the drive-thru flux, his usual energetic cheeriness now veering into slight mania.

Kuroo groans dramatically, his shoulders sagging. “Come on, Oikawa. I just need, like, two minutes. I can’t even handle numbers right now.”

Tooru rolls his eyes, setting the last drink on the counter before turning to Kuroo. He raises an unimpressed brow at his pathetic expression. “Fine,” he says, sighing even more dramatically than Kuroo.    
“I’ll take over for a couple of minutes. You can check the sandwich supply or something.”

Kuroo’s face quickly switches from pleading to an overly-mischievous grin as he stands up straight. “Aw, what a sweetheart! You’re the best.”

Tooru rolls his eyes again as he goes to the register, though he does puff his chest out slightly at the praise. “Yes, I know I am. Just--count the damn sandwiches.”

Kuroo grins even more evilly before Tooru turns away to greet the man walking up to the counter. He smiles as the man approaches.

“Hi, welcome to Starbucks! What can I get started for you today?”

The man smiles back, barely even glancing at the menu.  _ Handsome _ , Tooru thinks idly. A little too business-dad type for him, perhaps, but he had warm eyes and a nice smile when he looked at Tooru.

“Uh, hi,” he says. “I think I’ll just take a coffee, with room for cream and sugar, please.”

Tooru smirks as he punches in the order. “Keeping it plain and simple?”

The man shrugs. “What can I say? I’m a straight-to-the-point.”

Tooru hears Kuroo snort quietly behind him, not-so-subtly passing it off as a cough. “That’ll be ¥200,” Tooru says sweetly, laying it on a little thicker just to spite Kuroo. The man pulls out a couple of coins from his wallet, watching as Tooru makes his change and hands him his receipt.

“Oikawa,” he says, looking at Tooru’s nametag as he tucks the receipt into his pocket. “You wouldn’t happen to be Oikawa Tooru, would you?”

Tooru pauses. “I...am,” he says hesitantly, taking another look over the man, who smiles again, pulling something out of his pocket and holding it up for him to see: a police badge. Tooru’s blood freezes.

“Detective Sawamura,” he says. Tooru’s eyes follow the badge as he tucks it away again. “Could I actually talk to you for a minute? I just need to ask a couple of questions.”

Tooru blinks at him, looking back at Kuroo bewilderedly. Kuroo glances between them, looking more serious than Tooru has ever seen him. He finally nods, looking almost reluctant.

“I’ll, uh, make you that drink first,” Tooru says, his hands feeling numb as he takes the empty cup. Detective Sawamura smiles.

“Awesome. I’ll just be sitting at that table in the back.” Tooru stands at the register, blinking after him until Kuroo nudges him with his elbow. 

Tooru starts on the detective’s drink, his mind whirling as his hands work on autopilot.  _ Iwaizumi _ , he thinks immediately. This had to be about Iwaizumi--something to do with the yakuza’s movements. He was suddenly very glad he hadn’t taken those photos of the yakuza boss’s haphazardous desk. He thinks briefly about texting Iwaizumi to warn him, but he doesn’t want to risk the detective seeing a response pop up and deciding to check Tooru’s phone for evidence.

He walks over to the back of the store with the detective’s drink in his hand, taking care not to spill it over his shaking hands. The detective looks up when Tooru approaches. 

“Thanks,” he says, taking the cup from Tooru and gesturing for him to sit. “I hope I’m not inconveniencing your coworkers too much by stealing you.”

Tooru folds his hands in his lap as he takes a seat. “They should be fine for a couple minutes,” Tooru says politely, hoping this conversation won’t last much longer than that. “So--what did you want to ask me about?”

The detective smirks. “Straight to the point, huh?” He flips open the file he’d set on the table, tilting it towards him so Tooru can’t see what it says as he scans over the top document. “Your sister is Oikawa Kira, yes?” 

It’s not exactly what Tooru was expecting him to ask. “Yes,” he says hesitantly. Sawamura nods.

“So you’re familiar with her boyfriend, then, Juba Takahiro?” Tooru nods. “Would you happen to know where Juba-san is currently?”

The bell rings as three separate people walk in, joining the fast-growing line at the counter. Tooru watches them, wondering if he could excuse himself from the detective early if the store got too busy. “I...can’t say I do,” he finally says, picking out his words carefully. “If TJ doesn’t want to be found...he won’t be.”

“Hm,” the detective says, scribbling down something in his notes. “And what makes you think he doesn’t want to be found?”

Tooru’s brain stutters as he tries to think of the most plausible excuse. “He just hasn’t been to the apartment in a couple of weeks.” He manages to tell the lie easily. “I figured he got in a fight with someone at the garage and was laying low or blowing off steam.”

The detective raises a brow, looking at him. “So you don’t think he’s hiding from the yakuza?”

Tooru’s breath catches. “What makes you say that?” He says, his voice forcibly calm and confused.

The detective shrugs. “Some of our street informants say he sold the Seijoh clan some faulty cars. You know anything about that?” Tooru shakes his head no. “Hm. What about this?” He pulls out a picture of the yakuza’s compound. “You ever been here?”

Tooru swallows drily. “I...think I’ve passed that building before on my way home. I don’t know.”

Sawamura raises a brow at him. “You live in the industrial district?”

“Near it,” Tooru lies.

“Hm,” Sawamura says, though Tooru can’t tell if he actually buys it. He flexes his hands when the detective pulls out a picture and slides it towards him. “What about these guys? Can you tell me anything about them?”

Tooru looks at the photo warily. It’s a photo of the yakuza, all right, but it must be an old one because at the front stands not Iwaizumi but a much older man, though they share the same dark eyes. After a couple seconds, he spots a much-younger Iwaizumi, maybe thirteen or so, standing off to the side behind a wall of unfamiliar men.

Tooru looks at the photo a full minute before he puts it back down. “No,” he murmurs, finally looking back up at the detective. “I don’t know who these men are.”

Sawamura’s mouth thins, but he pushes the photo a little closer to Tooru anyways. “This,” he says, pointing at the man in the middle of the photo, “is Iwaizumi Katsuhito, also known as Yuta among the yakuza. He’s the leader of Seijoh’s clan.” Tooru glances at him to see if he’s being tested, but when Sawamura looks at him, he seems sincere.

“I’ve never seen him before,” he says, the first truly honest word from his mouth.

“I didn’t figure you would’ve. He tends to keep a low profile.” Sawamura slides his finger over to the edge of the photo. “This is his son, Iwaizumi Hajime. He’s said to be second in line to lead, but no one really knows anything about him outside of that.”

Tooru pretends to look at the photo again, observing young Hajime. “He seems kinda of young to lead, don’t you think?”

The detective snorts, sliding the photo away and tucking it back into his pocket. “He’s a little older now, probably closer to your age.” He looks over Tooru again. “Your brother-in-law wouldn’t happen to have mentioned either of them, would he?”

Tooru shakes his head. “No.” There’s a second of silence. Two more people enter as Sawamura frowns and looks back down at his notepad. “Is that all you wanted to know?”

Sawamura stares at his notes, seeming to only half-focus on Tooru’s question. “Hm, yes--for now.” He glances at the counter, where the line is now extending halfway to the door. “I should let you return to work.” He stands, giving a slight bow. “Thank you for talking with me, Oikawa-san. Please let me know if you have any more information.”

He’s halfway to the door when he stops and turns to Tooru again. “Oh, and Oikawa-san?” Tooru waits nervously as the detective stares him down, his gaze serious. “Be safe out there. The yakuza may decide to come after you if they don’t find Joba-san.”

Tooru nods dazedly, watching as the detective finally leaves. “Oh, I will,” he mutters, never feeling quite so grateful to return to a mid-shift rush.

It takes him nearly an extra twenty minutes after leaving work to get to the yakuza’s base: He takes the long way, doubling back and going down side streets and even circling the building three times before he feels no one has followed him there. He almost texts Iwaizumi--they’ve gotten into a somewhat comfortable rhythm since the party incident, at least where Tooru doesn’t feel he’s constantly on edge when he’s there--but he doesn’t feel quite so familiar with the yakuza boss yet. So instead he just hurries a little faster in his winding detour there.

Iwaizumi opens the door almost as soon as Tooru knocks, looking unimpressed. “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry,” Tooru says as he takes off his jacket, hanging it by the door. “I had to take the long way here. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t followed.” He glances at Iwaizumi, shoulders untensing when he doesn’t look angry like Tooru was expecting.  _ Must’ve been a good day _ , Tooru thinks gratefully.

Iwaizumi looks back at him, smirking cheekily. “Paranoid?”

Tooru huffs a nervous laugh, toeing off his shoes. Iwaizumi starts taking off his own jacket, though much more leisurely, as Tooru talks. “Well, after a detective came to my work to have a personal chat with me, I figured I might as well play it safe.”

Iwaizumi freezes. “What?”

There’s something in his voice that makes Tooru wonder if he should’ve brought this up differently.  _ Too late now.  _ “Uh, yeah,” he says, “I think his name was--Sawamura? Detective Sawamura? Yeah, something like that.” He glances at Iwaizumi, whose face has turned stony. “He asked me about TJ and then about you guys, but he got a lot of stuff wrong--like about you, and your dad--”

“He questioned you about the clan?”

Tooru nods, wondering if Iwaizumi is acting slow on purpose. “Yes, but he didn’t seem to have good information, and I didn’t tell him any--”

“Get out.”

Tooru freezes, his whole body tensing at the sudden anger in Iwaizumi’s voice. “Wait, what? But I didn’t--”

“I said get out!” Iwaizumi snaps, stepping towards Tooru aggressively. Tooru flinches, but Iwaizumi reaches past him to yank open the door instead.

Tooru opens his mouth, an argument bubbling up on his tongue, but he quickly abandons it at the look on Iwaizumi’s face and gathers up his things again. He walks out the door with barely a glance at Iwaizumi, every nerve in his body on alert when he passes by. Tooru flinches when the door slams shut behind him, leaving him clutching his jacket to his chest as he stands alone in the dark hallway.

The sound of the door slamming still rings in Tooru’s head days later, each repetition sounding more like the sealing of a tomb than a bedroom door. He can’t shake the image of Iwaizumi’s face, so angry and defensive and...something else. Worried? Afraid?

“Dammit,” he mutters when he realizes he’s read over the same paragraph twice without retaining a word of it. He didn’t have time for this--shit, he didn’t have the  _ sanity  _ for it. He should be grateful for the extra time to study; midterms weren’t that far away, after all, and Iwaizumi wasn’t really one for giving “nights off” too generously. But the other part of him had yet to unclench after their conversation. Iwaizumi had not said a word to him--not a single text or call--and Tooru was too smart to not realize how bad of a sign that was.

_ Maybe he’s just busy, _ his stupid overly-optimistic brain supplies.  _ Maybe the thing about the detective just took him by surprise, and he’s been busy trying to handle it. He doesn’t blame you. _ But the smarter, more realistic part of his brain knew that if there was one thing Iwaizumi liked more than owning Tooru’s time, it was  _ reminding  _ Tooru that he did. This silent treatment--that wasn’t their usual foreplay. 

Tooru is halfway through reading the paragraph a third time when his phone buzzes. He thinks about ignoring it, but his anxiety has him flipping his phone over before he can fully form the thought. 

_ Come here tonight _ , it reads. It’s from an unknown number, but Tooru has almost memorized it by this point. Relief and panic rush over him. It hadn’t been different than any of his other texts, but Tooru couldn’t help but imagine the snappy, impatient tone of Iwaiuzmi’s voice. Tooru hurriedly threw on a jacket, barely stopping at his mirror to adjust his hair and clothes--thank god his anxiety hadn’t spilled over into his physical appearance yet--before scrambling out the door.

His apartment was only a fifteen minute walk from the compound, but Tooru had only ever walked back this way; the way going to the compound from his place somehow felt entirely different than the way back. He practically races upstairs when he gets there, not caring how pathetic he looks to anyone he passes by. His brain only seems to catch up with him when he reaches Iwaiuzmi’s door, the mixture of adrenaline and anxiety now yanking him back instead of throwing him forward. He raises his fist, hovering hesitantly over the door, before he gives it a sharp knock.

It takes Iwaizumi an eternity--a literal eternity--to open the door. Tooru almost wonders if he’s gotten the wrong door or even the wrong compound when the door finally opens and reveals Iwaizumi’s dubious eyes, which scan over him for a long moment.

“You’re early,” Iwaizumi finally says, standing aside to let Tooru in. “Did you run here from work?”

Tooru blinks at him, then walks in. “I--uh, no. I was actually at home, studying.”

“Hm.” Iwaiuzmi considers him for a moment longer, then glances to the bed. “Go sit down, take off your coat. I’ll be done in just a minute.”

Tooru does as he’s told, tossing his jacket on the chair and sitting on the edge of the bed, all the while watching iwaizumi from the corner of his eye as he shuffles through the papers on his desk. He didn’t seem angry, necessarily--the fact that he had requested Tooru here at all was a good sign too, right?

_ Or this is just a ruse, _ his mind supplies unhelpfully.  _ He didn’t seem that excited to see you. Maybe he’s just luring you into a false sense of safety before he flips again. _

Tooru gulps, gripping his shirt nervously. He didn’t realize talking to the detective would cause this many problems--a little suspicion, perhaps, maybe even some paranoia, but Iwaizumi had acted like Tooru had sold out their organization unprompted. He didn’t even get the chance to defend himself! And now that he had the chance, he was reluctant to bring it up, half-hoping Iwaizumi had simply forgotten the incident.

And if he hadn’t forgotten it yet, well...Tooru would just have to make him forget.

He flinches when Iwaizumi sighs loudly, running a hand over his face before turning to Tooru, who stares at him stupidly from where he’s frozen on the bed. It takes him too long to realize Iwaizumi is walking towards him, slowly taking off his clothes. He’s got his shirt and undershirt off and is working on his belt by the time he makes his way to bed, where Tooru waits, fidgeting.

Iwaizumi raises a brow at him, frowning. “You seem nervous.”

Tooru blinks, bunching the hem of his shirt in his fist. “I’m always a little nervous around you.”

He doesn’t mean to actually say it aloud, but it’s not like it isn’t true. It doesn’t seem to make Iwaizumi angry, fortunately, but it also doesn’t help break through his icy exterior. 

“Well, cut it out,” he grumbles. “I don’t want to deal with it right now.”

Tooru swallows heavily. “Yes, sir.” He’s thankful Iwaizumi doesn’t comment on Tooru’s obvious failure to calm down, his whole body feeling and probably looking like a tightly-wound string. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, but he says nothing else as he pulls off the rest of his clothes and turns to look at Tooru pointedly.

“I’m not fucking you like that,” he says, motioning at Tooru, who is still dressed in all but his shoes. He takes the hint, quickly shucking off his clothes as Iwaizumi watches him, strolling closer until he’s hovering over Tooru. Tooru glances up at him, still unable to read Iwaizumi’s cloudy expression.

Iwaizumi nudges his chest with his finger when he’s finished undressing. Tooru lays down without being told, Iwaizumi’s hand following him until it’s spread out flat against Tooru’s chest, his other coming to slide into Tooru’s hair, with the rest of Iwaizumi’s body not far behind. Iwaizumi starts at his neck, holding Tooru down by the hand on his chest as he bites and sucks a trail up his throat. Tooru moans softly, bringing his hand to Iwaizumi’s back. He tries to pull him closer, but Iwaizumi doesn’t budge, only pressing down on Tooru’s chest more insistently until Tooru feels like he’s wheezing for breath. He squirms a little, trying to relieve some of the pressure from his lungs. Iwaizumi responds by sliding his hand lower, holding Tooru by his hip instead while he stubbornly refuses to get closer.

Maybe it’s just Tooru’s anxiety, but every movement of Iwaizumi feels...angry, disgusted, like he’s trying to both smother Tooru and push him away. 

_ He invited you here _ , he reminds himself. _ He wants you to be here. _

For a terrifying moment, he wonders if Iwaizumi only brought him here to finish him--make sure that he can’t snitch to the police. But the other part of him, undoubtedly the less rational part, doesn’t think Iwaizumi would--not to him, at least. At the very minimum, he would get his full value from Tooru before he offed him. Wasn’t that a happy thought.

_ I need to keep his attention _ , he thinks.  _ He might not trust me--but he can at least still know I’m useful.  _ It’s not the most uplifting thought, but this wasn’t about feelings--it was about survival. And the last thing he needed was to be indebted to a yakuza who didn’t want him anymore.

Using his other hand, Tooru trails his fingers down Iwaizumi’s back, trying to pull him closer as he drags his hands back up. Iwaizumi’s hand doesn’t move from his hip, but he does lean in slightly, his mouth moving under Tooru’s ear.

“Don’t move,” he says, his voice sending shivers down Tooru’s spine. He watches Iwaizumi go to the nightstand to pull out a condom and a bottle of lube, pouring a generous amount onto his fingers before tossing them both on the bed. 

Tooru spreads his legs wider as Iwaizumi comes to stand between them. He flinches a little when Iwaizumi runs a lube-slicked finger over his hole, half-teasing and half already pressing inside. It’s going to be a rough night; Tooru can already tell. Though Iwaizumi hasn’t mentioned the detective thing again, it’s obviously still on his mind as he looks over Tooru, every touch a little too aggressive.

Tooru clenches the sheets in his hand when Iwaizumi presses the first finger up to the knuckle, gasping when he continues to push it nearly all the way in, his body resisting the sudden intrusion. This seems to slow Iwaizumi, or at least reminds him to let Tooru adjust, but his movements are still mechanical, as if he’s just going through the motions tonight.

Tooru tries his best to be sexy and inticing, not wanting Iwaizumi to lose interest and send him home again--perhaps this time not to be called back. He grits his teeth through the burn of being worked open so aggressively, forcing his moans to come out breathless and wanting rather than pained. 

Despite his efforts, though, Iwaizumi is barely on the third finger when he suddenly stops, pulling out completely. Tooru blinks at him, nervousness fluttering in his stomach.

“I’m not feeling this,” Iwaizumi says, his voice unnervingly cold. 

Tooru sits up, his heart pounding. “Did I do something wrong?” 

Iwaizumi shrugs, but there’s nothing light or casual in the way he holds his shoulders. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m too tired to deal with you tonight.” Tooru tries not to let that sting, too worried about Iwaizumi’s sudden lack of interest. He quickly grabs Iwaizumi’s arm to keep him from walking away. He looks at Tooru, waiting. 

“W-Well, if you’re tired, maybe I…” Tooru swallows nervously, trying to think fast. “Maybe I can do something for you instead?” 

Iwaizumi raises a brow, considering. “You want to ride me?” 

Tooru blinks. That...wasn’t exactly what he had in mind. But if Iwaizumi was suggesting it…

“Sure,” Tooru manages, his throat dry. “I mean--yes. Yes, I’ll--I want to ride you.”

Iwaizumi looks at him for a long moment while Tooru tries not to fidget too obviously. Then he nods, retrieving the condom and rolling it over himself before he settles on the bed next to Tooru. Tooru stands as Iwaizumi lies back on his elbows, looking at him expectantly. 

He eyes Iwaizumi’s body nervously before turning over to straddle him. It’s a little awkward--he’s never actually been the one straddling before, and it leaves him feeling a little more exposed than he likes, even though he’s technically the one on top. Iwaizumi puts his hands on Tooru’s thighs, his fingers digging into the skin as he helps steady him.

Tooru puts his hands on Iwaizumi’s stomach, both for balance and to steady his nervousness. His eyes trail over the intricate designs of his tattoos: dark swirls and loops spanning the length of his arms and chest except for one long strip down the middle left bare, like an unbuttoned shirt. The designs don’t make sense to him--just lines and dots and too many intertwining patterns for him to make sense of--but they suit Iwaizumi, giving him a certain edge to his clean-and-collected look. 

He can feel Iwaizumi watching him as he thinks, a little surprised he hasn’t already griped at Tooru to  _ stop thinking so much and hurry up _ . Maybe it was just his foul mood still lingering. Tooru just hopes he can’t sense how nervous he is, both hyping himself up and calming himself down.

“Have you ever ridden anyone before?” Iwaizumi suddenly asks, startling Tooru. It isn’t rude or biting-- just stated, like Iwaizumi already knows the answer.

“Well, no, not...exactly,” Tooru admits, hating how timid he sounds. Iwaiuzmi hums, his face unreadable.

“Here,” he says, running his hands up Tooru’s thighs to grip at his waist, lifting his hips upward. Tooru grips one of his wrists, keeping his other hand on Iwaizumi’s chest as he’s guided over his dick. He swallows nervously when he feels the head bump against his hole, but Iwazumi thankfully stops maneuvering him, allowing Tooru to control his movements while Iwaizumi keeps his hands on his hips.

Tooru lets go of Iwaizumi’s wrist so he can guide himself down onto his dick, gritting his teeth as the head pushes inside. Tooru sinks down slowly, doing everything he can to keep his composure. He uses a hand to help guide it in, one centimeter at a time. 

Iwaizumi’s hands flex around his waist, making Tooru feel suddenly rushed, even though Iwaizumi’s face is calm. He pushes himself down a little more insistently, gritting through the pain of it until he’s in as far as he can go, nearly all the way. He looks nervously at Iwaizumi, whose only response is a slight squeeze of his hips, an unspoken command to go. 

Tooru tries his best to work through the initial burn, but his nervousness and lack of experience are fighting against him. He starts with quick, shallow thrusts, then tries to move to longer drags, though it slows him down considerably. He watches Iwaizumi’s expression for cues, but he’s even harder to read when he shuts his eyes, his mouth set in a firm line.

Tooru tries to set a decent pace, but the faster he tries to go, the less coordinated he becomes. He slips off Iwaizumi’s dick twice, the second time deciding to take it as a cue to slow down, much to his own frustration. It’s maddening. He hasn’t felt this awkward and unsure since his first attempt at sex, and at least then, he wasn’t deeply indebted and slightly afraid of his partner. He almost wishes Iwaizumi would just grip his hips and set whatever speed he wants instead of having Tooru try and guess at what’s working. But he’s supposed to be giving Iwaizumi a break, right? 

The only sign he gets that Iwaizumi is getting frustrated with his fumbling attempt is his slight grimace and the flex of his hands, which tighten around Tooru’s hips in a vice-like grip. Tooru almost stops to ask what’s wrong when Iwaizumi’s eyes suddenly open, and he grumbles loudly. “I can’t take this.”

That’s all the warning Tooru gets before he’s forcibly pulled off of Iwaizumi and tossed unceremoniously to the side, landing on his back with a surprised “oomph!” He barely has a moment to catch up when Iwaizumi is hovering over him again, pushing back Tooru’s knees and pushing himself back inside. 

Tooru clings to Iwaizumi’s back as he drills into him at a bruising pace, all his apparent tiredness suddenly gone. Tooru feels him bite into his neck, a little rough, but he can hardly tell as Iwaizumi drives into him, pain and pleasure weaving intertwining inside him. 

“Ah, ha-harder, harder!” Tooru pants, wrapping his legs a little more securely around his back. Iwaizumi grants his request and pushes him into the mattress a little further, their chests finally touching as his hips work at a furious pace. Tooru can’t do much more than hold on and let out punched little moans as Iwaizumi works into him, his abdomen tightening as his pleasure starts to build, rising quickly. He barely has time to tap Iwaizumi’s back with the heel of his hand and stutter a short warning before he goes over the edge, coming over their stomachs as Iwaizumi continues at his bruising pace, only just starting to show signs of coming undone. 

Tooru’s sensitivity borders on painful by the time Iwaizumi does finish, slowing his thrusts until he finally stops and collapses bodily on top of Tooru, spent.

Tooru doesn’t dare tell him to get off, but his body is tingling with over-sensitivity and his lungs feel like they’re being crushed under the weight. Luckily, Iwaizumi doesn’t need long before he peels himself off, slinking off to the bathroom before he returns a minute later and throws a towel at Tooru.

“Oof!” Tooru wheezes when it lands on him. He manages to peel himself from the sheets, feeling sticky and uncomfortable as he wipes off the mess on his stomach. Only when he’s clean does he dare to peak at Iwaizumi again, who hovers by the bed, half-dressed and looking at something on his phone. 

He looks good, Tooru thinks, even sweaty and tired. Despite the relaxed look on his face, his shoulders and back still seem tight, like he’s expecting a fight--or looking for one. Tooru just hopes he isn’t the one on the receiving end.

“I had Matsukawa update your total,” Iwaizumi says suddenly, turning to Tooru. He doesn’t seem as standoffish as before, but there’s still a lingering tension in his voice. “You’re almost a fourth paid off. Congrats.”

Tooru blinks, trying to do his own mental calculation. “Wait--a fourth?” That wasn’t right--he should’ve been  _ way  _ past that. Or at least securely  _ at  _ a fourth. “Are you sure?”

Iwaizumi raises a brow, as if to say _ You’re questioning me? _ “The last was thirty, this time twenty. That puts you at just under a fourth.”

“Wha- _ -twenty? _ ” Tooru sputters. “I--They should both be thirty!”

Iwaizumi raises a brow. “You think so?” He asks, an obvious challenge.

Tooru grits his teeth, outrage flaring up in his stomach. “But--riding is way more work!”

“Yes,” Iwaizumi agrees, “if you’d actually finished me. That was foreplay at most.”

“Wh-- _ Fore _ play?” Tooru demands, not caring that he’s probably bordering on incontinent now. “I--That’s ridiculous! Are you seriously--” He sees the look on Iwaizumi’s face and wisely doesn’t finish his sentence, but something inside him still burns at the injustice.  _ Foreplay! _

Iwaizumi considers him for a moment. “You’re not used to not getting your way,” he says, his voice thoughtful. He smirks. “Maybe you  _ could  _ be yakuza…” He lets the thought trail off, frowning.

Tooru hesitates, his anger forgotten under Iwaizumi’s concentrated look. “What?” He asks tentatively.

Iwaizumi blinks, as if interrupted from his thoughts. “What did you say that detective’s name was again?”

Tooru stiffens. He had almost hoped that Iwaizumi had dropped the whole police thing altogether. “Um, Sawamura, I believe.”

Iwaizumi hums, still frowning in concentration as he steps closer. “He asked about me,” he says. It isn’t a question.

“Well, yes,” Tooru says, thinking back to the detective’s questions. “I mean, no. Sort of.” Iwaizumi raises a brow. “He asked about the clan and...your father. He said they didn’t have much on you.”

Iwaizumi steps closer, forcing Tooru to raise his chin just to meet his eyes. “And did you fill them in?” Tooru looks at him questioningly. “About me. He asked if you knew anything about me, right?”

“Yes,” he says, over-aware of how close Iwaizumi is, of how naked and exposed he himself still is. “I-I mean--I didn’t fill him in. I told him I didn’t know who you were.”

Iwaizumi’s brows raise, as if surprised. “You lied to him?” Tooru nods his head. “And he believed it?”

Tooru gives a slight shrug, trying to look innocent. “I’ve got a believable face.”

Iwaizumi looks over him again, his expression unreadable. “Yes,” he murmurs, “I suppose you do.” He lifts his hand and slides a knuckle down Tooru’s jaw. The atmosphere has shifted; the silence between them feels lighter somehow, less charged with tension, though Iwaizumi’s stare is still intense. Tooru has to glance away, looking at his chest instead.

Iwaizumi cups his hand under Tooru’s jaw, forcing their eyes to meet. “I want you back here in two days. Do you have work?” Tooru shakes his head. “I’ll have someone pick you up at nine. I’ll send you where to meet them, and they can make sure you’re not followed.”

“Okay,” Tooru murmurs, his voice cracking. A part of him should feel at least a little worried about being driven around by Iwaizumi’s goons--it’s one thing for them to show up near his apartment, but he really doesn’t want a dark SUV showing up outside his work or school--but mostly he just feels relief. Though his pride was still a little sore over the lack of payment for his efforts ( _ Foreplay--! _ ), Iwaizumi at least seemed to be in a better mood now.

Iwaizumi holds his gaze for another moment before releasing him, though he watches as Tooru gathers and puts on his things. Tooru only glances at him as he opens the door; they hold each other’s gaze for a long second before Tooru quickly looks away again, feeling Iwaizumi’s eyes even as the door shuts behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the chapter title pun--but I couldn't *not*.
> 
> Next week: "Trip to the Underworld"


End file.
